


Silent Partner

by orphan_account



Series: Silent Partner [3]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: Loosely based around the events in canon 2010 pre-reveal, M/M, Part 3, Third in the Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syed and Christian need to work it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Partner

  
 

  
SILENT PARTNER

  
“Was that my dad?”

He couldn't quite read the expression on Syed's face, but braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.  “I think so, yeah.”

Syed stared past him, mouth working unconsciously as he allowed that to sink in.  Christian cautiously laid a hand on his arm.  “Sy...”

“Did he see it was me?”

Now he was clutching at straws, but that was understandable, what he'd expect.  Was it better to give him hope or...?  “Not sure, didn't see him there until he was halfway to the stirs.  Can't honestly say what he did or didn't see.”

Syed's eyes were big and pleading.  “So he might not have known it was me.”

“Sy...”  The last thing they needed was for him to go back into denial and panic mode.  “I think it's best to assume he did see – until you know for sure he didn't.”

“Oh god.”  He lay back and closed his eyes.  “This is not the way I wanted him to find out.”

“I know.”  He didn't know what to say to not cause him to panic.  At the moment he was doing well – better than Christian had expected, but anything could set Syed off and he just didn't know if he had the energy to handle that right now.  Having him here, like this, had pretty much sent his head to some other realm and he was finding it hard to come back to the real world.  “Do you want to go home?”

“No!” he said, eyes snapping open.  “No, I couldn't, not now.”

“Sy...”  God, how could he help him through this?  What more could he do?  “You can stay with me, you know that, but sooner or later...” He made Syed meet his eyes, worried by his panicked stare around the room, as though seeking something – anything – in the darkness to save him.  “Sooner or later you have to face them – all of them.”

“What if he tells Amira?”

“Syed, look, your dad won't tell Amira.  Knowing your dad I'm not sure he'll tell anyone until he speaks to you, so the first things we know is that you're going to have to speak to your dad – come clean.”

“Clean?” He sat up, pushing him away – not viciously or angrily, but firmly, making it clear that Christian needed to be hands off for now.  “Clean? That's a laugh.  Clean is the last thing I feel.”

Christian felt himself tensing, the anger catching him unawares.  There was still so much pain there, so much unhealed hurt.  He wanted to forgive Syed for the hurt he'd dealt, but when he said things like that, made it clear exactly how he saw their relationship it ripped off the scab and exposed the slowly healing wound to the harsh, unforgiving light of day.  “Is that how you see us, then?  Dirty?  Is what we do dirty, Syed?  What we just did that's dirty?”

He saw that hit home and was immediately sorry, belatedly understanding that Syed hadn't been referring to them, but to himself – how he felt about himself – the lies and deceit.  Putting his arms around his lover he pulled him in close.  “Oh Sy, I know it's hard.  I do.  But we do have to do it.  You know that.”

“I know.”  His lips were moving against the bare skin of Christian's neck   causing an intense shiver to go right through him.  God when was he ever going to get used to this?   He'd waited so long for this, for him,  To have it in his grasp, to have have tasted what it might be like to have him – all of him... No, he couldn't let it go.

“Syed, I wish I could do it for you, but I can't.  I can't even be there when you tell him – them.  What can I do, baby?  Just tell me what I can do and I'll do it.”

“Christian, you know what to do.  Just be there for me, be on my side, be patient with me, don't stop loving me.  Please.”

Well that was easy – he was practised at all of those things.  He could do that – all of it.  “I can do that.  I will do that.  Just don't you stop loving me either.  Don't forget tonight and what we promised each other.”

Syed looked up at him.  “Never, ever believe that I'll ever forget this night Christian.”

He didn't add: “Whatever happens”.  They both knew what he meant, didn't need to have it articulated.  They both knew that they weren't home and dry by any means, that the next few days, possibly months, even years were going to be the hardest they'd ever faced and god help him he still wasn't sure that Syed could do it, had the resolve to see it through, despite the promises he'd made that night.  But it was important to show that he believed in him, trusted him implicitly.  Syed needed that more than ever and Christian was resolute in his desire to give that to him – the least he could do...

“I know, “ he said, kissing him.  “I know.”

  
**

He'd wanted to stay with Christian, wanted that perfect, perfect feeling he got only when he was with Christian to never end, to build and build to an explosive climax, but neither of them could pretend that things hadn't been changed by his dad's untimely entrance.

What had they been doing – just kissing?  Obviously it was leading up to more and oh god the thought of his dad walking in on him going down on Christian!  Just the thought of his dad and sex in the same breath was disturbing, let alone the thought of him actually witnessing him in the throes of passion – with Christian.  Somehow the fact that it was with Christian made it that much worse.  He understood that he wouldn't have minded nearly so much had it been with Amira since he never had reached the throes of passion with her, had never exposed himself the way he routinely did with Christian, unable to help himself, completely caught up in the moment, letting it all go...  He would have felt mortified had anyone, never mind his dad, seen him that way.  And it was more than the fact of seeing him naked, unclothed, it was the fact of seeing him for who he really was, a person no-one but Christian knew existed, a man he didn't want anyone but Christian to ever see.

If his dad had seen, well there was just no way to get out of it – he'd be forced to tell him – explain.  

He really wished his dad hadn't followed him over to the flat, but couldn't honestly find it in him to regret the fact that he'd made love to Christian rather than joining his family for his birthday dinner.  That was just nowhere close to being the truth, so even thought it was an undeniable fact that had he been at home with his family rather than at the flat with Christian his dad need never have found out – that way – he simply was never going to blame either himself or Christian for the decision he'd made.

It had been so right, had felt so good, everything for once making the most perfect sense.

But no, that would have been too easy.  It could never be that easy, not for him.  Not ever.

Christian wanted to come with him, he knew that, but they also both knew that that was not, ever had been, or ever could be an option.  No, this was something he had to tackle by himself.

He wasn't ready.  He knew that and suspected that Christian knew it too, despite all he'd said, the implicit promise in his decision to stay with Christian rather than go back to the family that evening.

Would he ever have been ready, really ready?  It had taken his mum's discovery of his relationship with Christian to get him to actually admit to himself that he didn't want to go through with the wedding.  It was as if he had to be pushed: that he would never choose to leap without that push and he hated that about himself.

  
He'd always seen himself as pretty sorted – well-favoured, intelligent, good at school, popular with the girls, adored by his mum, easy relationship with his siblings.  He had  happy family life and at the time hadn't realised just how important that was, only appreciating it when he lost them, when they threw him away.  And he'd vowed, hadn't he, all those long, lonely years up North, away from them, that he would never allow himself to be thrown away again, never give them cause.

And yet here he was, back again, causing them pain, hurt and dishonour.  Worse this time because there was someone else involved, couldn't hide it within the secretive bosom of the family, pretend he'd gone away to study, that he was busy setting up a business, doing well for himself.  No, this time an outsider was involved and though he'd schooled himself into no longer seeing Amira as an outsider the reality was that she was far better at accepting the idea of the extended family than he was.  She'd honestly surprised him in the real effort she'd made to belong.  He'd been sure she'd run a mile – and keep running – after tangling with his mum, after discovering the lies he'd told about his background and social standing, but she hadn't.  Seems that she too had been a little economical with the truth and that they were both using each other, each regarding the other as a good catch.  The difference was that she had genuinely fallen in love with him and though he had great affection for her, probably almost as much as he did for his won sister it wasn't more, and never could be.  That extra thing necessary to make him fall in romantic love with her just wasn't there.

It had surprised him, really surprised him when he touched her and felt revulsion.  He liked her, thought she was beautiful, smelled gorgeous.  But her touch made him so uncomfortable, truth be told made him actually feel just a little queasy at times, and that both frustrated and annoyed him.  He'd known since his teens that he was attracted to boys, yet had convinced himself that that he was attracted to girls too, attracted to girls more and that when the right girl appeared he'd fall in love and finally be able to make love with a woman.  He'd used guys to satisfy those urges because it didn't matter, it was animalistic rutting and he'd always prayed afterwards...

He wasn't a homosexual.

Everyone knew that it was alright to fuck guys so long as you never made it more than  a means of satisfying your animal urges so that you wouldn't burden your wife with such things.  He understood hypocrisy and double standards, knew that in some parts of the Muslim world fucking guys was a part of life – you just didn't talk about it, kept it one of those secrets to which only men were privy.  It was frowned on in the West because gays got above themselves in many ways, holding up that secret to the light for all to see and thus endangering that long, secret... tradition.

So long as you didn't flaunt it a blind eye could be turned.

You most certainly wasn't supposed to choose your male lover over your wife.  Now that was the offence: that you'd lost all perspective, now made black white and white black, saw lustful desire as being more important than tradition and duty.

And he agreed, had always agreed, known that the homosexual lifestyle was not for him.  So what the hell was he doing now?  How had all his plans ended here – in disgrace, in searing unhappiness, on the cusp of probably losing his family for good this time?

How had lustful desire become more important than everything he'd held so dear?

**

  
The house was dark when he got in, everybody in bed, probably all asleep.  Thank god.  He'd been expecting to perform like a stallion for his wife that night, but hopefully she'd be miffed and have her back turned to him all night.

After using the bathroom he made his way carefully and quietly to his room.

Amira was still awake and yes, she was miffed.  “Syed, what happened?  Do you never answer your phone?  Your dad went to look for you and said you must have popped out to get some food or something.  Babe, why didn't you just leave it and come home?  We waited for you, kept your dinner warm.”  She held out her arms.  “You poor thing.  Did they keep you waiting all evening?”

He held her, kissed her, heart pounding since he knew very well what was to come.  “I got so fed up of waiting I did go and get myself some chips.  Not a patch on mum's curry, of course.”  He smiled, kissed her again.  Then yawned.  “I am exhausted! My own birthday and I end up waiting in some cold flat fr a bunch of guys who don't even have the courtesy to show up! Now all I want to do is sleep for a week.  I was tired from before – getting the bedroom finished for you – us,” Another kiss  - on the cheek.  “And now I just want to curl up into a ball and black out.  You don't mind, do you? I promise that when I feel less like my eyelids are being propped up I'll make it up to you.”  He waited for her response, knowing that he'd pretty much hit all the right notes to get her to back off.

“Oh babe, of course.  Come on.”  She tucked the sheet around him, patting his arm like a sleepy child.  “There you go.  Now you get some sleep.  Time enough for you to make it up to me.”  She kissed him just below his left ear.  “We've got all week.”

Oh god.  What had he done?  What had Christian done?  Now she'd tasted some of what he was capable of in bed she couldn't get enough!

And he still had the task of telling her.

But first he had to sound out his dad, find out what he'd seen, what he knew.

He could do with a sleeping pill or two.  This was going to be a long, sleepless night.

  
**

  
He rarely saw his dad in the early hours and although he'd made a promise to himself to rise and shine before the sun could, in order to confront him, well, he hadn't actually set an alarm and found himself still in bed at 11a.m.

Amira was nowhere to be seen and the sounds of the house going through its customary morning routine filled his senses as he oriented himself.

Oh god, his mum.  She'd certainly have enough to say about last night.  First it'd be the food – ruined; then the rudeness of his protracted leave of absence; the interrogation about Christian.  He wasn't sure his mum believed a damn word he ever said about Christian, whether it was that he loved him, that Christian was a good man and wasn't to blame or that he was avoiding him, wasn't thinking about him, hadn't had sex with him two nights in a row...

But he really shouldn't think about sex with Christian when he was in bed, sleepy, a morning erection lazily making its presence felt.  

He'd come to hate his erections: they never obeyed him, never responded to his pleas, never leapt at the sight of Amira, never stopped talking, threatening demanding whenever he saw Christian.  He had only to catch sight of him sometimes, watch the way he moved, head down, in a world of his own, not even trying, and he'd feel that stirring deep in his gut.

Christian made him feel-

“Oh so you're in your own bed today!”

“Mum, don't you ever knock?”

“Oh sorry.”  She pounded on the door.  “Better? Your mother is allowed to talk to you now she has performed the appropriate rituals?”

“Mum...” He turned on his side, praying she'd take the hint and go on her way.

The door closed with a firm snap, heralding the sinking of his heart... “Where were you last night, Syed? And no more rubbish about gas leaks! Amira, poor girl, might buy that, but do not insult my intelligence!”

“You want me to tell you I was with him, mum?  Would that make you feel better?  How exactly?  How does knowing I was with him make you feel better?”

There was a long silence in which he became hear of the blood pounding at all his pulse points, heating him up, feel a little dizzy.  He was also aware, however, of his mother's breathing - heavy and panicked.  He turned his head to look at her.  She was holding a pile of tea towels, staring at him, eyes filled with pain.  “You were with him last night?”

“I didn't say that, but it's that what you're implying, what you seem to want to be the truth.  Okay the truth is that there was no gas leak.  He sent me the text and I had to talk to him.  Mum, you keep interfering, not trusting me to do the right thing, but I am doing the right thing and that's what I went there last night to tell Christian.”

“So he won't bother you anymore?”

“Mum, he's never bothered me, never, but no, if that's what you need to hear, no he won't be bothering me anymore.”

They looked at each other, reading each other, trying to fathom what the other was thinking.  The she smiled and nodded.  “Well these towels aren't going to fold themselves are they?  Amira is making you lunch.  That girl has got the delicate touch of a school dinner lady.  You will be living on takeaways and Tesco ready meals if she doesn't learn to cook!

“Yes, mum,” he smiled, watching her go.

When the door closed behind her he slumped back and let out a breath.

After a while the breath turned to a satisfied smile.

Well he'd started and there was no going back now, but maybe it needn't be as traumatic as he'd feared.  He'd managed to tell her the truth – without her actually knowing that it wasn't what she wanted to hear.  All it had taken was him changing, him realising that it was Christian who'd won the battle for his heart – and soul – and that 'small' thing had changed everything.

  
He hadn't actually been fully aware of this, not until that encounter with his mother when he'd discovered that he just simply hadn't been prepared to lie abut Christian – maybe not tell the bold truth, but no more lying.

Before, he'd known that it couldn't ever be, but now...Well he had changed, he really had.  For the first time he actually wanted to be with Christian, saw it as a viable option, prepared to take the consequences of choosing him over his family.

He'd hurt Christian so many times in the past, yet this time had been different: this time he realised that he could take his family's hurt and disapproval more readily than he could take seeing that look in Christian's eye, fully aware that he'd been the one to put it there.  It had been as simple and momentous as that: he'd gone from being prepared to hurt him if it meant getting what he wanted to being unable to bear it, willing to do almost anything to never find himself hurting him like that again.

He was so tired of lying, so tired of being fucking unhappy every single bloody day, having to pick out the tiniest crumb from the present and the planned future to get through the day, the endless nights.

He'd done it because he'd thought that time would help, custom would adjust him, make him 'right'. Yeah the way his mother tried to convince him it would.  “Fuck your wife, son, have lots of lovely babies and you will come out right, you'll see.”

Well, no, he was never going to come out right and he was sick of trying to force himself into a different shape to please her.

All his life he'd been trying to please them, his burgeoning sexuality dismissed as inconsequential: he'd marry a girl from a good family, love her, have great sex with her, produce lots and lots of little boy children to carry on the Masood line...  Not once had he ever entertained the thought that his happiness might be subsumed under that burden of duty.  It was just the way it had to be, like his mum would say, his selfish desires having no part to play in his future.  Yeah, she'd married for love, was with her perfect partner, but no, it had be different for him.  What he was, what he felt was against Allah's will so basically just suck it up!

And he'd been prepared to.  Up until a few days he'd been fully prepared to do just that.

And it really was funny because he had been certain that Christian would never be the one to make him change his mind.  Christian, well Christian just didn't count, as inconsequential as his sexuality, a part of that selfish life he could never have.

He hadn't known until Christian that it was possible to both love and hate someone at one and the same time.  He stored up his bitterest bile for him, knew damn well that he would never have spoken to, been so vicious to Amira.  But the thing about Amira was that she was blameless: she didn't tempt him to stray, offered instead a clear, uncluttered path out of his own private hell.  She was his saving grace and he lauded her for that, fashioned a special, very particular pedestal just for her, vowed to always show her a level of respect he simply didn't accord Christian.

Christian was the reason he was in so much trouble and he had, at times, truly hated him for that.

So he had certainly never imagined that he'd go to hell for Christian's sake – not to save him from mortal peril, which, had he thought about it that way, yeah, would probably have been  the only time he'd have felt he'd have done that – but simply because he loved him.  He absolutely fucking loved him and at last felt that he knew what that meant, now knew exactly what Christian meant when he said he loved him.

  
He'd always known that he was willing to die for his family, and now, now he was ready to do more than that for Christian.  

Now he was prepared to live for him.

**

The lunch Amira made him wasn't too bad, the smell of burning from the depths of the kitchen rather misleading as it turned out.

“Mm, this is good,” he said with genuine enthusiasm, making room for her as she slid onto his lap. “You'll make some lucky man a great wife some day.”

“Oh is that right?”  She had her arms wound tight around his neck, her perfume a little lighter than usual today.

“Is that new perfume?  It smells great.”  He sniffed at her neck.

“Yes I thought I'd try it out today.  Along with a few...other things.”  Her smile was conspiratorial.

Oh god, not more fancy lingerie.  He wasn't sure he had the strength of will... “Oh yeah?”  He tickled her, knowing that would get her to move away.  “You must tell me more.”

“Well I think this is the sort of thing that might be better...demonstrated... rather than discussed.”  

He was considering the weight of response required – not too enthusiastic as that would be unfair – and dangerous – but enthusiastic enough so as not to make her feel stupid.

“Oh you kids are making me blush.”  His mum was standing at the doorway, indeed looking a little flushed.  Syed cynically surmised that the flush was owed more to triumphant pleasure than any supposed modesty.

“I was telling Syed that I'm spending the day in town, buying a few surprises for him.”

“Oh that is a good idea, Amira.  If you need any tips-”

Oh god.

“No, mum, it's okay – Chelsea' coming with me. She's got lots of experience.”

“Oh I just bet she has,”  Sotto voce, but not enough to prevent her meaning being broadcast loud and clear.  “But Amira sometimes less is more, uh?  You know what I mean?  Maybe Chelsea's ideas...She's a single woman, maybe her tastes might not be ...appropriate...  for the marriage bed.”

“Mum! We're only buying clothes – nothing else.”  He couldn't believe it – his mum had made Amira blush.  She looked mortified and was clearly looking to him to rescue the situation.

“Why don't I treat you?” He handed her his credit card.  “Buy yourself something nice - really nice - and you can model my present for me.  Later.”  He took her hand and kissed it, wondering if his meal would still be edible by the time he got round to finishing it.

Her eyes were both grateful and filled with promise and he found himself wondering if that's how it worked between straight couples – that this was the moment when he'd be expected to get all worked up in anticipation of that promise fulfilled.  As it was all he could think was that he would need to develop some persistent killer migraine or similar if his plans weren't to get derailed before he'd even had a chance to put them into motion.  He had to keep stringing her along for a few more days yet -  had to talk to his dad before he dealt  with Amira - and having to avoid having sex with her was not the way to do it.  He'd been lucky the last few days, but knew that he'd just about run out of excuses.  But if she was expecting another performance from him then she was destined to be very, very disappointed.  He knew that he just couldn't do it, not even one more time.

But somehow he'd have to find a way to wing it.

  
**

  
“She's grown on me.”  He and his mother were washing the lunchtime detritus resulting from Amira's culinary efforts.

“Like fungus?”  He carefully dried the plate she handed him.

“Now, I admit that I wasn't too sure when we first met her, but, no she has come a long way.  She will make you a very good wife, Syed.  Still a bit rough around the edges, of course, but once I take her in hand you'll see, she will be perfect.  Bit skinny – tiny hips – ridiculous! But she will make babies just the same.  Mother nature has her way of making it happen even for those with tiny little hips.”  He just managed to avoid being bruised by the plate thrust with unnecessary vigour into his hands.  “Of course sometimes they can only 'manage' the one tiny little baby, but still, as long as it's a boy...”

“Yes, mum,” he said sensibly, knowing the futility of actually attempting to converse with her.  This wasn't a dialogue.  His task was simple – listen, respond appropriately in all the right places and basically never, ever contradict her.  Not a problem – he had a lot of practice – years in fact...Besides, it left him free to pursue his own thoughts.

  
What the hell was his dad thinking?  Had he been trying to avoid him, and what had he actually seen?  Did he know?

He'd have to find a way to suss him out later, try to sense his state of mind by the way he reacted to him.

He was confident that he'd be able to read his dad without too much difficulty.

**

His dad cornered him in the dining room later that afternoon.  This was the only way he could think to describe it.  He had that look on his face, that look that meant he was serious, no messing, and that things could well turn ugly very shortly.  His mum was bad, but you sort of knew what to expect from her – unreasonableness, hurtful, vicious barbs, lots of shouting.  With dad it was a little different: he got angry, really angry, so seldom that when he did it was always a little scary.  And he was less forgiving than mum, liable to cut you out of his life and mean it, really mean it.

“Dad, hi.”

His dad examined his face closely, ruminating.  “Your mum's at the book club, Tam's at some after school club.”

He laughed.  “Hardly, dad.”  He glanced at the nearest chair, anything to get away from his dad's penetrating stare.

“Whatever.  We need to talk.”

“Sounds ominous.  Am I allowed a drink first?”

“Why? Do you think you'll need one?”

“Well I don't know.  You seem really serious about something.”

“Sit down, Syed.”  Following his own suggestion his dad drew out a chair, sat and waited for Syed.

So this was it then.  “Okay, dad, you're worrying me.  Is it Kamil? Mum? Shab?”  Why had he said that?  Clearly the years of dissembling had left their mark.

“Sit down and and no, it's nothing like that.”  He watched Syed as he reluctantly drew out a chair, mind racing.  How the hell was he going to react?  He didn't seem infuriated.  Maybe those hours away had given him some time to think it through.  He clearly hadn't told his mum. Christian had been right – he wanted to talk to him first.  “Now, I hope  that all my children know that their parents aren't bigots.  We have friends of all races, all sexual persuasions...” He paused here, gimlet stare actually sharpening.  “We don't judge people based on skin colour or sexual orientation.”

Oh? We don't? Maybe you should speak only for yourself, dad.  “I know.  What's this got to do-?”

“I know that we've brought you up right, Syed, with our standards, so I know that you don't judge people based on those things either.  I know that Christian's a good friend to Amira and you, Syed, and you know I like him...”

He found himself bristling, actually getting hot under the collar, simply waiting to hear what insult he was about to send Christian's way.  “Yes, I know.”

His dad paused here, seemingly unsure quite how to say what he wanted to say.  “Syed, look.  I've been around the blocks a few more times than you and I've worked with, socialised with gay men.  They're nice blokes, but sometimes... Look, Syed, you're a good-looking young fella and well, sometimes what can be just good old-fashioned horseplay between straight guys can be a bit...different...when one of the guys is gay.”

Syed frowned at him, genuinely confused as to what he was trying to get at.  “Yes, I know that, dad?”  He waited, still frowning.  What was he trying to say?

“Look, there's no easy way to say this, son.  I saw you and Christian the other day.  You were fooling around and although I could see that it was just mucking around for you I thought it was something else for Christian.  Now don't get mad, Syed, he probably didn't mean anything by it.  Like I said, good-looking bloke like you, for him, well it's er going to be er..natural...to get a bit...”  So he was trying to give him an out?  Or was it that her hadn't actually seen that it was Syed, just saw that Christian was with someone who was Pakistani and that made his mind go into overdrive? Still...

“Dad, please.”  It had belatedly occurred to him that his dad was actually implying that Christian was getting hard from mucking around with him.  Of all the things he could have imagined in his worst nightmare... “It was just mucking around – for Christian as well as me.”  If that's what his dad wanted then he'd go along with it until he could suss out his real feelings with a little more accuracy.

“You sure?”  His dad seemed more than happy to take his word for it, visibly relaxing in his seat.  “Well, of course I didn't mean anything by it and I hope it won't change things between you and Christian.”

“No, dad, it's alright, it won't.”  And now was the perfect time to tell him the truth – they surely couldn't have picked a better one and he knew too that if he didn't do it now it would be harder the next time, plus he now knew that his dad had seen him and no way that situation could remain static for any length of time, no matter what his dad might have wanted to believe.  “Actually, dad, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.  It's sort of to do with Christian.”

“Don't tell me – you want to have him on retainer as your personal decorator.”  He could see his dad almost desperately pleading with him not to, not to say what they both knew he was going to.

  
He grinned, genuinely surprised that he could.  “It'd be a pretty meagre retainer.”

“Right, right and Christian's not the meagre type is he?”

Now he laughed.  What the hell did he mean by that? “No, dad, he isn't.”

“So what is it?”  His dad's hands were stiff on the table, tightly clasped together, his entire body a 'Stop!' sign.

“Dad,” He trailed off, not quite knowing how to form the words.  Should he just come out and say 'Dad, I'm gay'? Or should he make more of a tale of it?  It was hard to know how to make it easier for his dad to swallow – in bite size pieces or wholesale?  He knew that he'd prefer to simply blurt it out, get it said, get it done, but it was about making it palatable for his dad, too.

“Son?”  His dark eyes were searching Syed's face.  “Syed?”

He knew.  It was crystal clear that his dad knew, knew without him having to say more than that one word.  He wasn't a fool, the discussion leading up to it, the evidence of his own eyes... “Dad, I'm gay.”  He only just bit off the 'I'm sorry'  that seemed  to want to attach itself to the end of that sentence and instead waited, waited for his dad to respond.

  
**

“I need to talk to you.  You free?”

Christian had obviously found a fairly quiet corner to take the call, but the sounds from the pub still streamed over the line, a sound he'd probably forever associate with this, this feeling, this moment.  “Yes, baby, of course.  What's wrong?”

“I mean talk, talk – in person.  Can you come to the flat?”

“Syed, what is it?  What's happened?”

“Dad knows – for sure, I mean.  I talked to him, told him.”

**

  
“I am so sorry.  Sy, I am sorry.”

“No, don't be.  I was going to tell him, Christian, this just forced my hand a bit, but I'm not sorry.  It's just...Look, I told him to keep it to himself, to allow me to tell the others – Amira.”

“He was okay with it?”

Syed gave him a quelling look. “No, Christian, he was not okay with it, but he's not frothing at the mouth, won't be shooting his mouth off and disowning me in the streets any time soon.”

Christian looked as though he was the one who'd been kicked in the teeth: white around the mouth, eyes grey with pain.  Syed held out his arms.  “It'll be okay, Christian.  I promise you.  Eventually it will be okay.”

**

  
He couldn't deny it, he was stunned.  Yes, he had wanted it, wanted it more than anything, but to actually have it in his grasp?  He'd thought he'd known Syed so damn well, but he hadn't had a clue, hadn't known this resolute, steely-eyed, lovable, loving sweetheart of a man truly existed.  He'd been over the moon to have the Syed he thought he knew but this, this was like a dream come true.

Every day, every moment of the day he expected him to turn, turn on him, turn back into that old Syed, but no, it wasn't happening!

He had changed.

Christian didn't know why exactly, what exactly had made him decide, but that didn't matter, he was loving this new Syed.

But not all was rosy in their garden.  No way it could be, not for a good while yet, but it was getting there; his particular favoured spot, in that corner, the bit that got all the sun was just the way he wanted it to be and he wasn't complaining.

**

Amira was a problem.  He was aware that Syed hadn't yet told her and knew too that Syed never intended to let her know about their relationship and while he preferred absolute transparency, respected that Syed had the right to deal with this in the way he thought best and was fully aware in any case that it was all for Amira's sake.  He could see that while she might be gutted on discovering Syed's sexuality she'd be bloody devastated to learn that he and Christian had been sleeping together all that time, so, no, probably best to keep his name out of the equation.

  
But she, unaware that anything had changed, was still treating him like her bestest mate, happy to call round at any time of the day or evening.  And he liked her, loved her company, but right now things were even more awkward than they'd ever been and he just wanted Syed to tell her so that she'd at least have a bloody clue!

He honestly couldn't predict her reaction, but he wanted her told so that they could move on with their lives...

Couldn't happen soon enough as far as he was concerned.

  
**

The last person he'd have expected to be standing there when he opened the door was standing there when he opened the door.

“Masood,” he said, flustered.

“Can I come in?”

He'd never heard that tone from him before.  So it was going to be one of those talks then.  “Of course.  Come on, straight through.”  Shutting the door behind him he gave himself a few moments to gather his composure.  He had not been expecting this.  Should he have been expecting it?  Syed hadn't said much about their encounter save to say that his dad had been shocked, but had taken it as well as could be expected.  He had only seen him in passing, no face-to-face encounter so had perhaps been lulled into a false sense of security.  

Zainab had had her go at him, only natural for daddy bear to do the same.  He expected daddy bear's claws to be a little less poisonous than mummy's, though.

Time to see if he was right.

“Please, Masood, take a seat.”  He had to offer, but didn't expect to be taken up on his offer.  Okay then, definitely going to be one of those talks... “Drink?”  He'd keep being the good host until Masood got that look off his face and actually opened his mouth, said his piece.  Looking at him like he was some freak in a sideshow was not helpful – to either of them.  But he wasn't going to help him out:  he'd come here with intent, well get the fuck on with it then!

They stood on either side of the room, staring at each other.

He'd always considered Masood a fairly mild-mannered individual.  He supposed you'd have to be to be able to live with Zainab.  Didn't look so mild-mannered right now, though...

“You know, Christian, all my life people have underestimated me, taken me for a fool, taken my kind-heartedness for softness.  I'm not soft.  I can be kind, but I'm not a soft touch.”

What the hell? Was it going to be one of those speeches instead?

“How old are you now, Christian, about 40?  Not much younger than me and Zee.  I was barely out of my teens when we had Syed.  The proudest moment of my life.  I loved that boy to death, made such plans for him.  I guess we all do that, don't we – parents.  Oh you wouldn't know about that would you, sorry.”

“Oh don't apologise, Masood.  I'm not – sorry, that is.  Turns out some of us aren't actually cut out to be parents.”

“No, some people certainly don't have what it takes.  Takes a lot to be a good parent, Christian-”

And let me guess: you got it in spades... “I've no doubt.  This going somewhere, Masood, because I've got a pile of dirty laundry...”

“If you were capable of having kids you'd never have done what you did.”

“Oh?  And what exactly did I do?  Hmm?  What would having kids have prevented me from doing?”  Had he lost touch with reality, the shock of discovering that his son was batting night-watchman for the other team totally unhinged him?

“It's all a big joke to you, isn't it?”

“Yes, Masood, my life is a great big fucking joke.  Unless you have something to say, something real and concrete...”

“Why?  That's all I have to say.  Why?  Why Syed, why him?  You must have known he was off-limits-”

“Excuse me?  Off-limits?  Why, because he's a good little Muslim, only allowed to be touched by pretty little perfumed girl hands?”

“You knew, you must have known, no way you couldn't not know and yet out of all the men you could have picked on you picked on him.”

“Picked on him? Picked on-” He broke off, not sure quite trusting the words to come out.  He thought that he'd deliberately picked Syed because he was off-limits, that he saw him as some sort of fucking challenge, the highest coconut on the shy?  “Masood, I have always had the greatest respect for you – and your family – but I think you'd better leave before I forget myself.  You have my respect both on your own merits, but also because you're his father, but I'm telling you just do not push me!”  This last was accompanied by the clenched fists and flashing eyes that were sure signs of danger – to anyone other than Masood, apparently.

“He tells me he's gay, but I know that's not true,” he went on, much as if Christian hadn't spoken, but now his demeanour had changed.  His shoulders were slumped, all the air gone from him.  Now he looked like he needed the support of a firm chair with a solid back.

Oh Masood.

“Masood, I don't know what to tell you.  If Syed says he's gay then surely-”

  
“Are you telling me – man-to man, Christian – that you don't think that you had an influence on him?”

Oh god how to answer this?  Masood clearly needed to believe that Syed's sexuality was situational, that it was something in the flavour of the air Christian breathed out or maybe a chemical in his aftershave that had infected his son, and that once Christian was out of the picture the fever would burn itself out and Syed would come to, as good as new, hopefully amnesiac – albeit selectively so.  “I can't say that I didn't have an influence on him.”  He loves me, you dolt!  “But I can tell you that he was gay long before I met him.”  He held Masood's gaze until he was sure that had sunk in.  “He's been gay since he was a teenager, Masood.”

“But he was always surrounded by girls, always so popular with the girls, never had trouble getting a girlfriend.  Ask Tam, it used to drive him mad....”   He trailed off, the implications sinking in at last.  “He always had a girl and I just assumed that with some of them...”

The ones who weren't good little Muslims, no doubt.

“I just assumed it.  I know that at his age – and I never had as many girls all over me...”

Yeah, hidden in plain sight – that's how it works, Masood.  But he was in shock, not fair to be so hard on him.  “Let me get you a drink.  Tea or coffee?”

“Whisky, please.”

“Sorry?”

“Do you really think I've never tasted alcohol?  I follow the rules – when they make sense – but I don't need a rule book to let me know when it's time to stop drinking.  I've been drunk once in my life and I hated it – that's all I needed to get me to swear off drinking for life, but I understand why there's a prohibition against drinking which is why I can drink – when it's required – which would be now.”

  
Well, well.  As he went to find the whisky that he did indeed have decanted and ready he wondered how many other rules Masood was willing to bend, how many rules he understood the reason for but didn't necessarily agree with …  Maybe, just maybe there might be a tiny chink in there somewhere...

  
**

  
He'd cut him off after the second measure.  Masood clearly had no head for liquor.  Christian wondered what he'd got drunk on- Scrumpy Jack?  Bacardi Breezers?  Babycham?  Snowballs? No, surely not alcopop!

“So pretty – too pretty.  So many girls, Christian.  Zee hated it.  Of course no girl was good enough for her precious boy.”

And no boy either.  “That's mothers for you.”  He poured him a glass of juice.

“But I never suspected.  He-  Maybe when he went away.  Do you think that's when-?”

Oh so you're no longer laying golden boy's conversion at my door then?  Progress.  “I think he was quite lonely without his family.”

  
“It was my fault.  I sent him away, disowned him...”

Oh great.  “It wasn't anyone's fault, Masood.  You and Zainab both need to accept that – she wants to blame me – which is understandable – and you want to blame yourself.  I'm not to blame and neither are you-”

  
“Sorry?  Run that by me again.”

God, was he in the Vic or his own living room!  “I said it's not your fault, Masood.  Stop blaming yourself.

“Are you telling me that Zee knows?”

Oh.  Wasn't she supposed to?  Oops.  “Er...well I don't know.  I think-”

“She knew.”  He sounded completely sober, upright now, back stiff.  “She knew.  My god.  How long?”

“Since before the wedding.  Just before.”  Day before.

Masood simply stared at him, eyes bleak and dark with some pain Christian could only imagine.  “And she made him go through with it, didn't she?”  He just did not want to get involved.  “Tell me!”

“Yes, yes she did.  He wanted to call it off, but she wouldn't let him.”

“Okay,” he said, almost to himself, rising with a quiet dignity Christian honestly envied.  “Christian, can I ask you, man-to-man, as a friend, to stay away until we get this sorted out.” He put up a hand to forestall his protest.  “I promise you I'm not trying to push you out of the picture.  Clearly you are very much in the picture, but we need to do this as a family-”

“But Syed needs someone on his side,” he protested.

And was ashamed when Masood looked at him and quietly replied: “He has me.”

  
**  
   
Christian didn't tell him about the fact that his dad had come over to see him – his dad had told him.  That had made him really, really angry and he'd gone over to the flat planning to have it out with him.  That just wasn't Christian's way – to keep secrets – and the last thing they needed was for him to start.

But, as always, once he saw him, smelt him, felt him all the resolve dribbled away.  They kissed like it had been months since they'd last been together, ended up on the floor, and in the end he couldn't even remember what it was he'd been angry about.

**

  
I think I may have put my foot in it.  “Christian was playing with his fingers.

He felt cosseted, protected, so secure he was drifting into delicious sleep... “Hmm?”

“Your dad came to see me the other day.  Now don't get mad, Syed – he was very reasonable.  I'm glad he did, actually.  I actually think we understand each other!”

Syed looked at him, smiled fondly into his eyes.  “You have no idea how special you are do you?”

“Well, sweetheart,”  A hand gripped him firmly.  “This gives me an idea.”

Laughing, Syed pinched him just above the left hip.  “Out the gutter, please.”

“Not easy.”  He was nibbling at his right ear.

“So what did you put your foot in?”

“Well we talked and I may have accidentally let slip that Zainab knew.”

“Oh.”

“I may have accidentally let slip that she made you go through with the wedding even though she knew, and you told her you didn't want to.”

Syed became immediately alert.  “What?”

“I am so sorry.  I just assumed he knew, that he'd talked it through with her.  I would never-”

“How do you know she made me go through with it?”  He had never told anyone, especially not Christian.  He would never have told him that!

Christian examined his face.  “Baby, I know, okay?  I worked it out.  I've known for a long time.”

Syed slid down into the bed, turned his face.  What must Christian have thought of him?  How weak he must appear.  All the crap he'd been spouting about his choice, his decision, what he wanted, his wife – all of that must have appeared as so much cowardly bullshit to Christian, knowing as he must have that Syed had had the opportunity, had even made the decision to wrest back his life from his mother's determined grip then not actually bolstered up the courage to follow through.

He was mortified, didn't want to see him, couldn't face him.

“You can turn your face, Syed, but that won't stop me seeing you.  I have never stopped loving you, even when you chose not to be with me, even when I came way down your list of priorities.  Do you think, Syed Masood, that I don't know you, that I don't love every fucking fibre of you?  Never, ever hide from me.  You insult me more than you can ever know when you do that.  I love you, hero, warts and all.”  Christian didn't hug him, just placed a wet kiss in the middle of his back, and changed the subject...

No, he knew that Christian had no idea just how special he was, but that was okay, he'd take great pleasure in showing him.

  
**

  
It was very strange watching his dad watch his mum, his usual loving tolerance in abeyance.  He hated that he was the cause, but knew better than to think that it really had much to do with him.  This was a husband/wife thing.  His mother had been keeping a secret from his dad and that was the point – not the nature of the secret, but the fact of it.

And his mother was a hypocrite – he knew exactly how she'd have reacted had his dad been the one keeping the secret.  They all tolerated so much from their mother, but none had any illusions about her flawed nature.  They all loved her to death because she had the most amazing qualities to set against the flaws, but she was definitely flawed.

He had been shocked to the core when she'd turned on him at the ceremony, the mother he'd always known – his friend, defender – back turned, presenting to him a two-faced harpy who would tear him to pieces herself rather than see him disgrace her.

He'd been weak that day, should have gone with Christian, who had appeared there, his knight in shining armour, prepared, he knew, to brave harpies, dragons, moats teeming with monstrous beings, poisoned with stagnant water, all for his sake, to rescue him.  But his knight couldn't do that – any of that – not without Syed's implicit – no, explicit – consent, and he had been too damn weak to give it.

He could excuse himself – had done in the days following – pointing to the psychic blows his mother's attitude had dealt him, the horror of the scandalous fact of drawing scrutiny that way, coming out in such an absurdly public way.  He had absolutely needed his mother on his side to get through it, now recognised that there was no way he could have done it without her, but just how long could he keep excusing himself?

He'd done the wrong thing that day and he knew it.  Saying black was white and white black didn't actually make it so, no matter how often you said it.  Now aware that Christian knew his excuses became like pathetic fairy-tales, fooling no-one least of all himself.  Christian.  Christian had always been there for him, the only one truly, truly on his side, always prepared to forgive, to love him no matter what.

He  didn't know what it might take to make Christian throw him away the way his mother had done, but he suspected that he would never find out because it would never be something he'd be likely to do.

He had honestly never expected that being gay would be something that would make her throw him away.  He had chosen to keep his sexuality under wraps because it was his choice to try to live that life, to not make his desire for men a factor in how he lived his life – it hadn't really been because he'd feared that his mum would look at him like a belly crawling worm, the lowest of the low.

It seemed impossible to equate what he did in bed with Amira as accepted, acceptable, normal, the way he was supposed to feel for the remainder of his life while the joy he and Christian made between them, found in each other was considered unclean, unhealthy – wrong.

Sex had always been good for him - he'd actually had to stop himself indulging more often.  The sex had always been fantastic and he'd obviously assumed that a woman would make him feel that way too – the right woman.  So naïve.  So damn naïve.  Lying to himself because that was the only way to stay sane.

None of his girlfriends had managed to touch any part of him, all of it for show, able to use his religion – and theirs (much to their chagrin) – as an excuse for not taking things further than kissing.

Why did people think kissing the least sexual thing you could do?  With Christian it was the most important form of intimacy they had – kissing and kissing until they were aflame, taking a break from sucking him because he wanted to taste your mouth, wanted you to suck on his tongue...

Kissing Amira, in comparison, was like eating bland, tasteless sop and he had never been set alight the way he'd been by even the simplest of Christian's kisses.

He defied anyone to see them together and tell him to his face that it wasn't love, that it wasn't the most beautiful thing in the world, because love was, love was the most beautiful thing in the world and no-one could tell him he wasn't allowed to experience it.  That was everybody's right, even Allah said that, and regardless of anything anyone said or anyone thought he knew that he had found love and as far as he was concerned that was not against Allah's will.

  
**

  
“What's up with your face then?”

“Hmm?”

“Forgive my indelicacy, but you look like you've just been fucked into the middle of next week  - and raring to go again!”

Roxy certainly had her way with words.  “I will not forgive your indelicacy, lady.  Although  lady's probably a bit of a misnomer.  You know what they say, you can take the girl out of the East End...”

“I'll have you know I am a heiress!”

“Yes, love, that's why I accidentally called you a lady, but honey, you can't buy breeding.  Or so they tell me.  Ow!”

“No, come on, Christian, I know I haven't had much time for you lately.  Oh shut up, you know what I mean.”

He made a non-commital sound, wondering just how much he was going to extract from him.  She had a way of getting behind his defences did Roxy.  He'd often thought that it was a good thing he wasn't straight, his soft spot for women sure to present big problems.  In fact it had presented quite a problem with Syed, although to be fair the poor guy hadn't actually expected to ever hear that his out and proud gay lover had actually slept with a woman.  No tell a lie, make that two women!

He smilingly recalled the expression on Syed's face...

“Sorry?”

“Oh don't look so horrified.  It's been known, you know.”

“But-but- you're gay!”

“Yes, I am.  I'm also not a stuffed up, woman-hating queen!”  He looked at Syed's face.  “Long story, but there were these queens going on and on about how foul women were, how the thought of pussy made them feel sick – rank stuff, believe me.  And I, well-known big mouth that I am, told them that I'd actually go out and sleep with a woman to prove it wasn't a fate worse than death.  And you know me, don't use half measures for anything.”

“So you did it twice.”  He was grinning now, tweaked Christian's nose.  “You idiot.”

“That's me.”

“What was it like?”

“Oh you want pointers?”

“Be serious.”

“Nothing special...  Pleasant, bloody exhausting!  I certainly didn't have an epiphany, didn't start looking at women differently.  Well yeah, I suppose in a way I did, but it never became a thing.  Look, Sy, it happened about 15 years ago and it's not something I've ever wanted to repeat.  I made my mind up, did it-”

“Twice.”

“Did it twice and since then I've never felt even the remotest flicker of the tiniest amount of interest.”

“Did you do with women you knew?”

“Not exactly, but I didn't lie to them, told them I was gay and left it up to them to see if they wanted to go there with me.”

“As if any woman in her right mind would refuse.”

“Well, “ he said with a modest smile, spoiled somewhat by the immodest wink that swiftly followed.

“So you don't look at Roxy, say, and think-?”

“God not!  She is so not my type!”  Syed was laughing.  “What?  I went for the most flat-chested, boyish , dark-haired girls I could find.  No point in making it harder for myself was there?”

He was glad that Syed was amused, but knew that it had been a shock to him.  “Sy, you don't have to worry about that side of things.  You have got to get used to the fact that I'm adventurous, will always rise to most challenges, hate being told who I am, what I can and cannot do.  That's all that was – me challenging myself, trying to see if there was a mountain I really couldn't conquer.  And I think you know yourself that conquering something doesn't mean that it'll ever become a pleasure  - or a habit.  No, all it means is that you've satisfied yourself that you can do it, if you try hard enough, if the incentive's there.  I will not ever regret sleeping with those girls.  I did it for me, cos at that stage in my life I was like that, did crazy things like that, still finding out who I was, determined to push those boundaries.  I wouldn't do it now.”  He made sure to make steady eye contact with him.  “I would never do it now.  Nothing to prove.  I so know who I am, Sy, and I know what and who I want.”

Syed had maintained the eye contact for a long time before leaning  in and kissing him softly on the mouth.  He loved Syed's kisses.  He seemed to put his heart and soul into each and every one of them and for such a clean living boy his kisses were incredibly dirty.

He knew exactly how hard Sy was just by the way he kissed, knew indeed how hard he was going to be ridden – by his kisses alone.

Poetry, Syed's kisses...

  
“Oi!”  The smack on his arm brought him back with a jolt.

“Lady, you need to pull them punches a bit.  Ow!”

“And I will – when you tell me what the hell's got you grinning like a dog with two tails.”

“You ever seen a dog with two tails?  Because I have to tell you that would actually scare me.”

“Christian!”  She stopped just short of making contact with the bare flesh of his arm this time, stamping in frustration.  “You are so annoying!  Just tell me!”

“Tell you what?  That I've met the man of my dreams-”

“Again.”

“Nope, first time.  First time ever.”

Her steady blue gaze was penetrating.  “You're serious, aren't you?  This is The One?”

“Absolutely.  For keeps.  For both of us.  First time ever that it's been that way.  You know how it  usually is – he likes you and you only sort of like him.  You're desperately in love and he's only interested in you until the next young thing comes along.  It's never been the same for you at the same time.  Well this time it is.”

“True love.”

“Better.”

She watched him thoughtfully.  “What's he like in bed?”

“Roxy!”

“Oh that good?  I can't wait to meet him!”  She tracked the expression  on his face.  “Oh.  Not going to any time soon?  Problems?”

“Not as such, but there are... complications.  Don't want to talk about it yet, sweetheart, but when it comes together you are going to beg me to stop talking!”

“We'll see, but for now, you are still my employee so get back to work, surf!  And don't break any more bloody glasses.  Not bloody made of money, you know.

He made a rude gesture, but wasn't quick enough to avoid her firm hand landing hard on his backside.  “Oh that is firm.  You absolutely sure you're gay, Christian?  Oi! Less of the face, mister...”

Nope, he was definitely never telling her that he'd walked the wild side of the track at one time in his life because he knew she'd want all the gory details.  Like he could remember.  Fifteen years and not the most memorable of his sexual encounters, but were she to learn of them she would hound him to his bloody grave...

**

He'd told his dad that Amira was his next stop, making it seem like the simplest thing in the world.  At least his dad had given him an in, so had his mum come to think of it.  They'd both sort of already known.  Amira had no clue and, unlike the others, it affected her directly (despite what his mum wanted to think).

  
He had no idea how to tell her.

  
**

“Every time I look at her I lose my nerve.  How the hell do I tell her, Christian?”

“Well the first thing is to sit you down and get you to drink this.”  Christian was between shifts at the Vic and not in the best mood, Syed could tell, but he was trying to be patient.  “Now.”  He was kneeling in front of him, hands firm on Syed's knees, looking up into his face, expression solemn.  “Syed, the longer you leave it the more likely it will be that she will learn it from someone else – your mum or dad.  Not on purpose, no, but they know and it's like a live grenade, Sy, sooner or later someone's going to have to drop it.  I'd say that the damage, the explosion would be less extensive if you were to be the one to tell her.”

Yeah he knew he was right, but this was so hard.  “Where do I tell her?  At home, at the flat?  Should I take her out to dinner-?”

“Definitely not, Sy.”  With a sigh he rose, sat on the arm of the sofa.  “You cannot make an occasion of it.  You should pick a time when everyone's  out the way, when it's just the two of you and you know you won't be interrupted.  If you did it at the flat, Sy, I think she'd be really resentful, thinking that you were rubbing it in her face.  That's what I'd think in her position.  Don''t make too big a thing of it.  Sometimes the kindest way is to pull the plaster off real quick!”

He stared into Christian's face, looking for god knew what – a way to get out of it probably.  “I'll do it tonight.”

“Don't push yourself, Syed, don't force it.  Make sure you're as ready as you can be.  It's not going to be easy, either for her or for you, so try to make it as easy on yourself as you can.”

He didn't respond, concentrating instead on sipping the sweet tea Christian had made for him.

He had to stop leaning on him this way.  All of this he had to do by himself – his mess, his responsibility to fix it.  Christian had no part to play.  He wanted him out the way.  On impulse he turned to him.  “Go away for a while, Christian.  Please.  I don't want you involved in this.  I'm not telling her about you and it would just be easier.”

He didn't know quite what he'd been expecting from Christian, but silent contemplation was certainly not it.  “Christian?”

“I think that's a good idea, Syed.  If you really don't want  Amira to know about me then there's no way I can stay.  She trends to turn to me for advice a lot, Sy, you know that and I just know that- No I think it might actually be a good idea.  I hate to leave you in the middle of-”

“I'd prefer it.  I could not bear for them to drag you into this.  I can't tell you what it does to me to hear that expression in mum's voice when she says your name or the look on her face when she talks about you or sees you.  It kills me, Christian, makes me hate her and I know that it's going to get a thousand times worse.  I know you want to stay, I know you do, but you have always done the right thing for my sake, Christian, and you need to do this for my sake.  Without you here I'll be more resolute, will be better able to cope with everything.  Just be fucking waiting for me when I call.”

  
Christian slid onto the sofa and pulled Syed onto his lap.  “Always.”

  
**

  
He knew it was the best solution but it was killing him.  The thought of leaving Syed to face all that mess by himself... But what could he do in any case except be there for him?  And no, it really wasn't a good idea  for them to see each other while he was sorting it all out.  He really didn't ever want Amira to to know about their relationship so, no, he had to be out the way, but it was the hardest thing he had ever had to do.

Roxy had been sweetness itself when he told her that his fella was in trouble and needed him for a while, had happily given him the time off (and an advance plus bonus – to get his sweetheart something nice) so he was okay in that sense.  He had some friends up North he could stay with for a good while: god knew how long it would take for the dust to settle once he'd dropped the bomb.

Syed had agreed to phone him every night just to let him know all was well, had made him promise that he was not to come haring down if he didn't hear from him for a while, but was instead to check in with Roxy first and she'd be able to let him know if anything momentous had happened.  They had neither of them used the word 'tragic' or anything like, but knew that it had been at the back of both their minds.

The thought of anything happening to Syed while he was away was killing him, but he had promised and in any case knew that it was for the best.

They made love the night before he left, Christian asking to be fucked, holding him with arms and legs, staring onto his eyes as he came, the pleasure bittersweet this time, tinged as it was with the pain of the parting.

  
Syed had left at midnight after extracting a promise to phone late that evening when he should be in Manchester and Syed getting ready to finally tell  Amira.

He loved Manchester, had always had a great time up there, but this time, maybe this time would be the last.  He couldn't imagine ever being able to think of the city the same way after.  It would forever be associated with this thing, this feeling of loss...

**

  
He'd told him, told him to go away and he'd known it would hurt, but he'd had no idea just how much.  How far he'd come since last December when he'd thought he could cope, had got used to Christian's absence.  He'd still been living a lie.  Now that he'd changed – and he really had, imperceptible to the naked eyes, but momentous to him - he just couldn't, he just could not bear to be away from him.

How the did you live whilst loving someone this much?  Now he'd made the decision to be with Christian the love was finally free and was most definitely running the show!

He would do anything to keep him safe, free from the carelessly splashing mud, even though it hurt like hell, felt as though his heart had been wrenched from its moorings, each breath pain, each thought leading inexorably to him, concern for him...missing him.

It had been mere hours since he'd risen from their bed, knowing in his gut that this would be the last time for a long, long time, wanting to make it last, let him know just how much it meant, how being without him even for one day would kill him.

But he was tired of being weak, of leaning on him for everything, making him take the weight of their relationship all the time.  It was time for him to be the one who was strong, the one who'd stand in front of him and take the blows.  These blows were his to take, had nothing to do with Christian, weren't his to endure.  It was time his man stopped being bruised by the fact of loving him.  It made him feel shame to think that loving him had hurt Christian so badly that it had made him feel shame.  Christian Clarke was not a man who felt shame, wasn't a man who should ever feel shame  and he'd made him ashamed of who he'd become.

He would never, ever tell him, but knowing that, Christian saying that had made him weep – later, when he was alone with himself, it had made him cry.  Of all the things that could have made him cry that had been the one.

He wasn't brave.  Christian thought he was but he didn't agree.  Christian thought it took courage to go against who you were, to be selfless for the sake of others, but he didn't.  He knew that his entire life had been a series of cowardly acts.

He didn't have it in him to be like Christian – out and proud, not only of his sexuality, but of himself, certain of his right to exist simply because he did exist and had that right.  He had a certainty here that Syed envied.  In the past it had annoyed him, rubbing against his own dissatisfaction, highlighting it in a way he himself had resolved never to do.  But now he was proud of him, proud that Christian had chosen him.  Of all the men in the world, Christian had chosen him, had really, really chosen him.  With eyes wide open had picked him.

He'd never been loved that way by anyone, not even his mum.

Christian's love was so strange to him, the first time in his life that he had  been loved so ruthlessly, so relentlessly - all without it ever being any type of burden, all without him ever thinking he didn't deserve it.  Christian's love challenged him to dare to say he didn't deserve it.  It was in the nature of this love to only be given to he who deserved it, and he accepted that, selfishly accepted it as it demanded he do.

The thought of losing it, losing him just didn't bear contemplating.  Set anything against that, set any onerous task against that and there was no contest.

Christian was, as always, waiting for him.

Time for him to stop waiting...

**

  
“Son.  Syed.”  His dad was hurrying toward him. They hadn't spoken much since that last conversation, but his dad wasn't being cold to him, just obviously still trying to come to terms.  His main concern had always been Amira, the offence he couldn't quite forgive if Syed was reading it right.

“Dad.  Slow down, not getting any younger.”

  
“No, and my kids are doping a good job of driving me to that early grave aren't they?”

“Not Kamil, surely,” he responded lightly, determined not to take up any of the gauntlets thrown down.

“Well the sleepless nights and the pooey nappies...”  They looked at each other, regret tingeing the air between them.   They'd been well on the way to recapturing their early friendship, but now...  “Have you spoken to Amira yet?”

“I'm going to tonight.”

“Good.  She deserves to know.  And you be sensitive, gentle with her.  I can't imagine how it's going to feel for her to hear this.”

“No, dad.”

“Look, I know it's not easy for you either, but you have got to admit that she is the victim here.”

And you're not, you're just an evil homosexual.  “I know, I know I've done all the wrong things, dad.  You do not need to tell me any of that.”

His dad snorted internally, Syed could tell by the expression on his face.  “I'm angry with you Syed, I'm not going to pretend I'm not, but do not think I'm going to be angry forever or that I won't give you an ear when we're both ready.  I don't think either of us is ready right now, but when we both are.  Okay?”

“I'll tell her, dad.”

His dad held his gaze for a little longer then with a sigh patted him on his arm and went on his way.

  
Syed didn't turn to look at him walk away, stomach churning as he realised the excuses were done: he had to talk to her - tonight.

  
**

  
She looked beautiful, absolutely glowing, shooting him these secret looks all through dinner, then taking him by the hand and pulling him up the stairs.  He made a good show of not noticing his mother's smug observation of this.  If he thought about it too hard he'd lose it completely, blow up, so he had to ignore  her, pretend not to understand her veiled hints and commentary.

“What's going on?”

When she had him in their room she shut the door and began to kiss him.  He responded as best he could, hoping that she would have the decency to leave the sex until darkness had fallen when there was a good chance that the household would be asleep and there'd be no chance of anyone hearing anything.  “I have some news, husband.  Sit down.”

  
He hated when she got all love-dovey and called him stupid things like 'husband'.  God she was so proud to be his wife...  He felt a stab of guilt deep in his gut.  He really should stop this before it got-

“I'm pregnant.”

He stared at her, mouth open like a fish on a hook.  “Sorry?  What did you say?”

She rolled her eyes, sat on the fed beside him and kissed his mouth.  “We, husband, are going to have a baby.”

“You're sure?”

“Fairly sure,”

“You don't know for certain?”

  
“I thought you'd be pleased, not start interrogating me, Dr, Masood.”  She kissed him again.  “I haven't had a pregnancy test, but I've missed a period and I'm always really regular...”

“Well why don't we wait until the test then? Don't want to make plans prematurely.”

“Well at least I know what to expect if I announce it again.  I thought you wanted a baby.”

“I do, of course I want a baby.”  He punctuated this lie with a kiss.  “It's just that I would much rather know for sure than start wetting the baby's head when there might not be a baby's head to wet.”

She made a face.  “Oh that sounds horrible, Syed.”

He laughed and hugged her.  “Sorry.”

“But I suppose you're right.  She wriggled onto hos lap.  “I just really want it to be positive – the test I mean.”

“You'll take one then.”

“Yeah, I should be able to get a kit from the chemist first thing.  We'd know in hours - probably sooner.”  She was grinning, bouncing painfully up and down on his lap.  “But why don't we make certain now, lover?”  She was kissing his neck in a way she no doubt assumed was seductive.  He felt nauseous,  the shock, the guilt, the disappointment of not now being able to go through with his resolution to finally tell her all serving to make him feel like throwing up.

“Amira, not yet - later.  I don't like to do with everyone walking around out there-”

“They're not going to come in though.”

“”I still feel uncomfortable.  Why don't we leave it until later?”

She pouted, then kissed him, nibbled at his neck.  He closed his eyes, wondering how the hell he was going to get through this night.

Pregnant?  Oh what the hell was he meant to do now?  Christian would be phoning him any minute and what was he supposed to tell him?

Well one thing was for sure he would have to tell him about the pregnancy – they were never going to keep those sort of secrets from each other, not now.  But he knew, just knew that he'd want to head back down, sure that Syed would cave under the pressure his family would pile onto his back.

But that wasn't going to happen.  He did not know what the hell he was going to do, but one thing he knew for sure was that the marriage was over – the lie was over.  He could no longer even pretend to want to be with her.  His dad knew, his mum knew so what was the point of keeping up the pretence now?  It had been for their sake that he'd been fucking with his own damn head, but they knew now, knew about him and Christian, his dad even felt that she should tell Amira he was gay, so surely, surely he wouldn't be so hypocritical as to change his mind now that there was a baby in the picture!

But even as he told himself this the sinking black pit his belly had become  told him that his problems were only just starting.

  
**

   
Typically, it was Christian that saved him from Amira's advances (that really were a lot more determined than they'd ever been).  That one night had fucked things up royally.  How could he have been so  incredibly brain-dead, so desperate for anything, anything at all to get it up for him that he'd not see that Amira simply wasn't capable of that inside knowledge.  She just didn't have it in her and for a very simple reason – he'd never gifted her that knowledge the way he had Christian, never been naked with her the way he had with Christian.  The truth, and had he not been in a fugue if the blackest despair he'd have seen it, was that Christian was the only person on earth who knew him that way.  He'd been so desperate for the slightest hint that it could work with her, that he'd simply thrown himself into the moment and put his brain on hold for the duration.  And it hadn't taken long to come back down to earth.  It was like that one night had been made under the command                                                                                                                             of an enchantment, the soporific effects washed away by the cool morning light, the feeling of euphoria evaporated,  working with the dregs once more – the way it had always been.  He'd known immediately that he was I trouble. But it was only when Amira had let slip Christian's involvement that he had understood why.

Oh he might claim to have gone over there to  warn him off, but he knew – and Christian knew  - that he'd come there for the real thing, dared Christian to give it to him for real and not by proxy.  The fact that Christian had given Amira the key to him both intrigued and inflamed him, the fact that Christian knew, knew exactly how to get him going, so much so that he could get his motor running through a fucking representative –a woman of all things – absolutely turned him the fuck on.  

He'd been wild that night, almost punishing him for his hubris, for daring to know him so well, for daring to give him to someone else...

  
Christian had so much fucking power over him.  Sexually, he had Syed by the balls, but he never squeezed too hard, just the right amount of pressure to make it feel good, to make him want more.

He'd fucked Amira, but it hadn't been her he was fucking.

He rarely fucked Christian, but when he did it was different to the way he fucked her.  It felt so different – she lay there and didn't give the way Christian did. Christian matched him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, nothing at all passive about being on the bottom.

He loved being on the bottom because he felt so in control, loving  the way he could stop him mid-thrust, make him almost beg for it, make him groan with just a tightening of certain muscles.  And riding him, god that was a thrill he was just never going to get tired of.  Seeing him lying there or sitting, cock erect, arms behind his head, inviting him, daring him, challenging him, and Christian was well aware that was a challenge he simply could not resist,.

  
He loved looking into his eyes as he tightened around his cock, hearing the hiss of his released breath as he set a punishing rhythm; the way his eyes would close as Syed slowed down, grinding slow, so slow, nails digging into his arms...

  
Fucking Amira, even when he'd had Christian as a silent partner simply could not match the real thing.

No, sex wasn't everything, not even the most important thing, but for him and Christian it wasn't even about the sex – the sex was simply the vivid illustration of their absolute connection.                   

He knew that it was unlikely to happen with anyone else that way.

He was 26 years old and had found the love of his life, which, by his reckoning meant that he had at least 50 more years of happiness ahead of him.

Why the fuck would he throw that away for anything?

  
**

  
Christian's number flashed on his mobile display.  Thank God!  A measure of his desperation to be free of Amira's clutches that he was welcoming a really difficult conversation in preference.

“Sorry.  I've got to take this.”

“What?  Now, Syed?  Come on.”  Shed managed to unbutton his shirt to the waist and was heading lower...

  
“Won't be long.  Promise.”  He practically ran out of the room, checked the bathroom door – yeah open, so no-one was in there – and sneaked in, locking the door behind him.  “Christian!”

  
“Steady on, stud! I've only been gone a couple of  hours!”

His laugh was almost giddy – relief and pleasure a dangerous cocktail that he was aware could easily turn to hysteria if he didn't take care.  “Really?  Hadn't even noticed you'd gone.”

“Is that right?  Then you won't mind me going off to Spain for a couple of weeks  with Jason and the others then.”

he frowned.  What?  There hadn't been  that familiar teasing note in his voice to show he was taking the piss.  “They're going on holiday?”

  
“Yeah, next week, and I'm invited.”

  
Well you're not going to go are you?  “Oh that's nice.  Spain you said?”

“Barcelona.  Jason's fella's got a little place out there.  Well I say little, it's actually a bit fancy, big enough t accommodate a few unexpected guests...”

The burn of jealousy was familiar, but this was different – it no longer felt like the brief but intense burn of acid, but now felt like he'd been immersed in a vat of it.  He tried to find something to say, tried to pretend he was pleased for him, but his muscles were no longer obeying him.

He belatedly realised that he'd fallen in love with him! Fallen in love with him completely and utterly - all over again -  and this time around he was defenceless, had no protection. Soft and vulnerable, he was completely exposed, no longer having that armour he had only realised he'd been wearing until he found himself without its protection.

He slumped against the wall, overwhelmed by the feelings roiling in his belly, stopping his throat...  He felt weak, newly born...utterly vulnerable

“Syed, I'm teasing.”  His voice was soft, seductive, knowing and Syed felt himself go hard, almost painfully so.

The fact that Christian felt able to play with him this way rather than irritating and troubling him gave him instead a feeling of immense security.

“I love you, you bastard.”

“You'd better.”

They listened to each other's breath for endless seconds, making love in the silence, touching in the spaces...

“How are you?”

“Honestly?  Better for hearing your voice, but Christian, something huge just happened...”

“Go on.”  Syed could tell by his voice that he had been expecting this, well, expecting Syed to give him bad news.  Not sure he could have prepared himself for this though.

“She thinks she's pregnant.”

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by an expression he had never expected Christian to ever use in relation to a woman, let alone one he liked.  He was shocked, but couldn't blame him – he'd sort of felt that way himself, except he was in a slightly different position to Christian who was under the impression that the pregnancy was a done deal rather than the false alarm he was counting on.  “I know, but she hasn't even had a test yet.  She really doesn't know for sure and Christian I'm sure she isn't.  I just know it.  Nothing's going to fuck this up for us so I just know it's a false alarm.”

There was no response from Christian save a very, very heavy silence on the other end of the line.  “Christian?”

“And if she is pregnant, what then?”

  
“She isn't.  Trust me, she really isn't.  I was about to tell her when she sprung this on me, but once she's had the result of the test I'll go ahead.”

Another sigh.  “No, Sy, think this through.  Please.  We cannot pretend this  doesn't change-”

“It doesn't.”  His voice was sharp - that's how he felt.  He was certain she wasn't pregnant and hated that Christian was taking it so seriously.  “Christian, you have no idea.  You have no idea how different I feel.  I do not care about-”

“Yes, you do.  You do, and I will not be your whipping boy when you come down from whatever cloud you're currently inhabiting, look at me and decide you made the wrong choice!”

He could not believe this!  What was happening?  “Is that what you think?  What you really believe?”

“Sy, I want more than anything to believe that we can just wave a magic wand and be transported to some Never Never land where we can live in our own little bubble where the big bad world never intrudes, but that's bullshit and you know it as well as I do!”

He found himself blinking in astonishment.  What?  Did he not want what he wanted?  Had they got their wires crossed somewhere along the line?  “What are you saying?  That you want to end it? “ He could feel the hot burn of tears start somewhere deep in the pit of his belly, not caring to to stop the spill from eye, careless of its unfettered flow down his cheek.  “Christian.”

“I love you so fucking much, Syed.  I couldn't end it if I tried, if I wanted to.”

“But you want to?”

“Yes!”  he said in sudden, violent fury.  “Yes, I want to fucking end it!  How do you think it's felt for me the last fucking year, waiting on the scraps from your table, coming to heel like a dog kicked so often by its master it comes to think of the beatings as affection, as love...”

“Christian, please, no.”  He was desperate to stop him, stop him speaking his truth, the truth he knew would destroy him to hear.

“I wish I never met you, Syed.  I wish that I'd told you where to go that first time you kissed me, that I never pursued you, that I never thought you were worth the pain and the trouble, the heartache, the misery, the shame, the nights when I wanted to open my own wrists it hurt so fucking much.  But the truth?  The truth is that you are worth it, worth ever miserable night crying over you miserable, beautiful hide.  Did I ever tell you how it feels to make love to you, Syed, how it feels to touch your hair, feel the burn of your face against mine, how I long for you so much it actually hurts, physically hurts and that even the sight of you eases the pain, that the sight of you feels as good to me as kissing feels to some people?  Did I ever tell you that, that there is not a damn thing I would not do to make you mine, no length I wouldn't go to put that look on your face – you know the one I mean.”  His voice had become a low caress against Syed's willing ear.  “That if all I had to keep me warm for the rest of my life was the promise that I could wake up to that look on your face every single day I wouldn't even need sex?  I don't have the words to tell you what you mean to me, Syed, so no, no I don't want to end it.”

  
He cried then, cried like a baby, cried for all the times he hadn't allowed himself to feel the pain; cried for the lost boy he had become, unmoored form himself, from his family, his lover.

And Christian was there to hear it all, hear the words he couldn't say, the apologies that were no longer necessary.

  
So long as Christian never stopped being on his side every stab of the poisoned dagger tipped with crippling guilt would be endured, accepted as the price to pay for the ultimate reward.

He just needed Christian to remain steadfast, unwavering, show utter trust in him.

So long as Christian had his back he'd stand strong and take them all on.

  
**

“Syed, what's wrong?  Open this door!”

  
“Mum, I'm okay.  A bit of privacy, please.”

  
“Something's wrong.  Amira says you went in there and when she was trying to talk to you you ignored her.”  A pause and when she spoke again her voice was a whisper.  “She says you were crying.”

Oh great, great, the joys of living with your family, who still thought of as a skinny, snot-nosed kid who had no autonomy, just another cog in the family wheel.  “Mum, please.  Give me some space.  Please.”

Another silence.  “She says you had a phone call.”  Her voice had it been illustrated cartoon-like would have been dripping venom – drops falling from her blackened tongue to the ground with vicious poisonous hisses... “Was it him?”

  
“You have no right to ask me that.”

He could sense that his tone and words had momentarily taken her aback.  “I have every right.”  But her voice held less conviction than she might have wished.

“You don't.  I'm a man, mum, married, about to move into my own flat - with my wife.  Soon my business will be none of yours.”  And he couldn't believe he'd just said that, that he'd dared to say it and mean it.

“Your business will always be my business.”

  
“No, it doesn't have to be.  I don't need to stay around here, mum, don't need to stay in touch.  I have lived without you before.  I could do that again.”  He paused to let that sink in.  “If I have to.”

He could sense her seething behind the protective wooden barrier of the door.  “You would dare, dare to say that after what you've done, after what you have been doing?  You would dare to present yourself as the victim here, me and your father as the bad guys?”

“Dad's not the bad guy.”  Making sure to qualify that in no way at all.  He knew that would hurt her, but wasn't even sorry that he'd said it.  Of course had he been face-to-face with her he might have been a little less brave and this knowledge prevented him from feeling any kind of satisfaction or triumph.  Arguing with her always left him feeling sick to his stomach, damaged in some vital way, and he wondered how she couldn't feel the same.  How she could tear him apart the way she'd been doing for the past 4 months and not feel sick in heart and gut he simply did not understand.

“You, Syed, are not the man I thought you were.”  Her voice was quiet, considered, filled with contempt.  “I have tried my very best for you, but now I see that it is all being thrown back in my face without a care.  You are selfish.  Selfish!  No, your father was right, Syed.  You are weak – and spoilt - not half the man your brother is.  Threw away your education, defrauded your own family.  Oh quite a man, quite a son.  And now this?  We took you back in, all those years, Syed, I kept a place in my heart for you, longed for the day, the day my son, pride of the family would be back where he belonged.  And you were ready to take it all weren't you, ready to pretend, defraud us all again.  How long, Syed, how long have you been defrauding your family?”  Her voice, predictably had been rising and rising during this speech and was now a shrill screech.

  
“Mum?  What's going on?”  Oh god, Amira!

  
Flinging open the door he didn't have time to examine his face, which had he but known it displayed the evidence of his earlier emotion.  “Mum, Amira...”  He stopped as he saw that the entire family were on the landing, brought there by his mother's tirade.

  
Tamwar and Amira were both staring at him,  his father was staring at his mother's back, expression shuttered, yet it was he who spoke first.  “Zee, I'm sure they could hear you in the Vic.  What's going on?”  His voice to Syed, aware as he was of his father's feelings, was a challenge, a dare to come clean for once and all.

His mother, eyes fixed balefully on his face, waved a dismissive hand.  “Oh it's nothing, just me and Syed – you know how we can be.  It's nothing, Mas.  And Tamwar don't you have homework?”

  
“Er...done it?”  His brother was miming: 'what you done now?'

“Well go and check it over.  I'm sure you'll find you've overlooked some things.”

Roll of the eyes and shake of the head, but he obediently moved away, back downstairs.

  
“Babe, you okay?  You look upset.”  Amira inclined her head very subtly in his mother's direction, made a gesture with her eyes.

  
“Taking her hands in his he mustered up a smile from somewhere.  “I'm fine.  Honest.  Just really, really tired and really looking forward to moving in to our own place this week.”

“Yeah, didn't Christian do a good job.  I can't believe it.  He's a magician that one.”

“Yeah, dad suggested we keep him on retainer.  I told him we wouldn't be able to afford him.”

“Oh I don't know.  I think he'd be worth every penny.”  She kissed him firmly on the mouth, whispered in his ear.  “Let's go to our room.”

He felt a surge of relief at the prospect of escape, the knowledge that though his mother and father both knew, only one of them was privy to that fact,  made his head feel like it was going to explode, especially when he was there in the same room with them both, his dad's barely held in resentment hovering like a black cloud over all their heads.  “Great idea.  Goodnight.”

“Syed.”  His mother didn't dare grab at him like the little boy he most certainly was not, but he could see that she wanted to.

“Let them go to bed, Zee, Syed looks worn out.  Goodnight, son, Amira.”  He accepted her embrace, a stern, unhappy look shot Syed's way.  “Tell her!”  in other words.

He sighed internally.

Yet another complication to add to an already impossible situation.

How the hell would they react to news of her possible pregnancy?

And how long would his dad remain silent on the matter of the secret his had wife had been keeping for the past 4 months?

  
**

She wanted him to stay around while she administered the test, but he persuaded her that there was no way he could take that time off work.  Do it later, he suggested, when he was at home, but she was too excited, wanted to do it first thing.  So he left her to it, not dwelling on it particularly since he knew the test would be negative.

She phoned at lunchtime, in tears, and he had to do his best to comfort, pretend to be as devastated as she was.  Wasn't she the one who'd been on the pill a few weeks back, adamant that she didn't want to have a baby?  What the hell had he done to this woman?  How had he made her so forget who she was that she'd now so want what he wanted that she'd tearfully mourn what a few months before she would have been celebrating?  The sooner he let her go the better.  How much more damage was he prepared to do before allowing her to be free of him?

He'd tell her tonight, no matter what Christian would say. Christian would tell him to leave off for a while until she'd got over this blow, but he feared leaving it any longer, feared that something else, some other...test... would come his way and delay things – not stop him, nothing was going to do that - but delay the day when he and Christian could be together.

So he made up his mind to tell her that night.

**

  
“Amira is pregnant.  Did you know that?  Your wife is pregnant.”  His mother was looming rather threateningly, the plate flung in front of him, judging from her demeanour, as likely to be filled with cyanide as any of her more customary spices.

“Is that what she told you?”  He pushed the plate away from him, in no  mood for either the food or the argument.

“Yes.”

Liar.  “She told me she took the test and it was negative.”

“Oh tests! From the chemist?  Everyone knows these things are worthless.  I've made an appointment for her at the surgery.  We're leaving in ten minutes.  Wash up and meet us outside.”  She began to walk away and he watched her, real dislike filling the space in his heart where she'd ruthlessly extracted her roots...

“I'm not going.”

“Yes, you are,” she said casually, showing in her every movement, in the way she didn't spare him even a glance her utter, dismissive contempt.

“If I tell you that I will deal with my wife in the way I see fit then you will listen to me.”  He didn't rise from the table, didn't take his eyes from her.  “You can take her to the surgery if you want, administer as many tests as you like, but the results will be the same.  She is not pregnant and she will never have my baby.”

He saw her glance into the hallway before turning and coming at him like a battleship in full flight.  She didn't speak, which in its way was far scarier than her accompanying rant might have been, proceeding to attack him: hitting him with all her force, around the head, pulling at his hair, using her nails...

He protected himself as best he could, shock and despair combining to weaken him,  make him impotent.

“What are you doing?”  Mum! Syed!”  Amira came running in, trying to pull his mum from him and only succeeding in getting  a hard slap across the face.  

This was what finally galvanised him.  Grabbing his mother's flailing arms he held her away from him.  “Stop.  Stop.  Stop it, mum, stop it.”

“You have no idea what you have done to this family.  You don't care.  You don't care.  You are selfish.  Selfish!”

“Amira, please go upstairs.  I need to talk to you in private.  I'll be up in a minute.”

She looked from his face to his mum's, back again, but didn't argue, knew enough to recognise that the situation was serious. “Okay, Syed.  See you in a minute,”  then mouthed: “Is she alright?”  And at his firm nod headed for the stairs.

His mother was red in the face, hair awry, the film of angry tears in her eyes.

They regarded each other in silence,s  then Syed aware of the hot flesh under his fingers relaxed his grip, let her  go and stepped back.  “It's over, mum.  In a moment I'm going upstairs and I'm going to tell my wife that I'm gay, that I should never have married her and ask that she please forgive me for almost ruining her life.”

“Almost?  Almost?  If you go up there and go through with that selfish, selfish act no, that will be when you ruin that poor girl's life.”

“I can't believe that you are still  saying that.  Mum, it doesn't matter any more.  What you want, it doesn't matter, because it's my life and I'm going to choose-”

“I won't let you, Syed.” Her demeanour had changed: no longer the vicious harpy she'd morphed into the pleading, loving mother desperate to save her son from himself. She grabbed his hand.  “Syed, listen to me, pappu.”  A hot hand hand held against his cheek.  “Think it through.  You've had a bit of a shock – having a baby, it's a shock for any-”

“We're not having a baby. And it has nothing to do with that.  I've made up my mind.  And guess what, mum, you're not going to change it for me.  Not this time.”  He extricated himself from her hot grip.  “So I suppose you're going to have to come up with something to tell Bushra and the others then.  I don't care, paint me as black as you like.  I'm doing this as much for her sake as mine so there's nothing you can say that'll make me change my mind.”

“Oh at least wait until she had the proper test, Syed.  What if it's positive?  Are you going to abandon your pregnant wife?”  Her voice sharpened on the last and he certainly knew what he was supposed to say in response.

“Never.  But that doesn't mean I'll stay married to her.”

“You would disgrace here that way, leave her to raise a child by herself?  How will she ever attract another man when her husband has abandoned her, left her to raise his child alone?”

“”Well it's a good thing she isn't pregnant then isn't it?”

“You can't possibly know that, Syed. Wishful thinking.  That's all that is.”

“No, mum, you're the one guilty of that, not me.  Loo,k you really are wasting your breath.  I'm going to talk to Amira, see if we can talk things through.”

“Talk things through?”  Her voice was heavy with contempt.  “You make it sound like some parliamentary debate!  You are abandoning your pregnant wife.  You're abandoning your beautiful, pregnant wife for some...pervert... who doesn't even believe in god, who can't keep it in his trousers for longer than five minutes, who will be off with the next guy before you know it.  Syed, please, think of what you you're willing to give up and for what?  Where's your precious Christian now, uh?  That man has no honour – off at the first sign of trouble.  Oh don't think I don't know he's left you, scurried up to his friends in Manchester to party while you make the biggest mistake of your life!”

  
How the hell did she know that?  “I told him to go.”

“And he went, uh?  Like a meek obedient little dog.”  She said something then in Urdu that he knew when she saw his face she regretted.  “Syed.”

She tried to touch him.  “I'm going to talk to Amira.”

“Pappu, please.  I didn't mean-”  

“Mum, I'm going.”

And when he looked into her eyes saw the recognition there, saw the knowledge of her mistake.  She had crossed the line; all the things she'd said about Christian up till now had been hovering close to the line, but now she'd crossed it.  He would never, ever forgive her.  And she knew it.

**

Amira was standing  front of the window when he came in  and didn't turn to look at him until he spoke.  She looked worried and he felt his heart begin a steady, painful thump, all his courage leaving him.  How did you tell this woman who loved you, adored you, that you'd been using her, had been cheating her, had planned to make her life a living hell and would have had no qualms about doing so?

“It's serious isn't it?”

“Come.  Sit beside me.”  He took her hand in his and used his other hand to stroke her hair.  He loved her hair, the thing he liked most about being with her, the one thing, absurdly, that could stop his unrelenting focus on Christian whenever they were together.  “You've had a hard day.  I'm so sorry about the baby, Amira.”

“Oh well, it was probably for the best.  We should probably settle into the flat first.”

Yeah, about that.  “I can't believe how much it's changed.  Remember what a dump it was?”  Why was he doing this?  This wasn't how he was supposed to be doing this..

“And we have Mr. Magic Hands to thank.”

He kept the smile on his face, mind going to places they had no business, not now, not in the face of this task he had to undertake.  Oh god for it to just be over, for him to be with Christian!  “Who knew he was that talented?”

She was smiling now, leaning against him, just the thought of Christian obviously cheering her up.  She must never, ever find out about them!  “I did.  I think we should get him to do it professionally, Syed.  He's wasted at the Vic.”

“Well isn't that for Christian to decide?  And what are we, career guidance counsellors now?”

She laughed and hit him with a gentle fist.  He smiled into her hair, heart aching for the fact that he was about to lose her – his friend, his companion.  She knew him in a way Christian didn't.  She'd been there when he'd been playing that role, that role that he knew Christian would hate, but which he actually missed.  It had been him, who he wanted to be, who he knew he could be.  It had been based on a lie, but hadn't been a lie.  He felt stifled here, unable to spread his wings the way he should be able to.  Amira understood ambition in the way he wasn't sure Christian really did.  He wanted it all, all of it, but knew that he would need to compromise, at least in part.  He'd made that choice hadn't he?  Made the choice to be with Christian, so he'd have to start from there, where Christian was.  The life he wanted, the wealth, the acceptance, was on hold, had been the minute he decided he couldn't live without Christian, but it was only on hold.  His mistake had been to conclude that he couldn't be happy and in love and also wealthy and successful.  He had the talent, the intelligence to make it by himself and anyway he wouldn't actually be by himself – he'd have Christian.

Amazing how everything fell into place the moment you made the right decision.  He'd been limiting himself, basing his future on what he observed, what he'd been told, what had been drummed into him – success came in only one way – family to support you, wife and children to spur you on, but that wasn't the only way, was it?  He'd met gay guys who were incredibly successful, he'd just never rated that, saw it as being essentially empty.  He had always seen everything he was through the filter of the family, being part of the family.  He'd known, of course, that being gay wasn't any kind of option so had dismissed the evidence of his own eyes.  Until now.  What Amira said about Christian... He really was talented, had quite a few talents that Syed could see were actually going to waste.  They could both be incredibly successful if they put their minds...

“What was that about?  Downstairs, with your mum?”  Amira was peering up at him.

“Hmm?”  He came back to earth with an internal shake, akin to a dog freeing himself of the water that had lodged in his fur.  Had to stop thinking of him, not at all helpful or fair to Amira.  His focus should be all her right now... “Yeah we've been fighting.  You've probably noticed that things have been a bit heavy for a few days now.”

“Well your mum does tend to be a little...grumpy...at times.”

How diplomatic.  “Well, as always, it's me who's causing her 'grumpiness'.”  Here goes.  Oh god.  “Amira, there's a reason she's been mad at me for the last few days.  Well longer than that to be honest.”

“Is it me?  Something to do with me?  It's the flat isn't it?  Me wanting to move out.  Babe, I really didn't mean-”

“No, no, it's not that.  Shhh.”  He placed a finger against her lips.  He should just look her in the eye and tell her.  “Amira she's angry with me because she found something out, something about me.”  He saw the panic in her eyes and wondered what she was thinking.  Another woman probably.  Pretty sure she could have no possible idea of what he was actually about to spring on her.  “Amira, I told mum-”  How the hell could he say this to her? “I told my mum that I thought I was gay.” He wanted to close his eyes, move away, but instead froze in place, almost staring her down in a bid to keep himself from cringing and running away.  She kept staring him as though waiting for the punchline, not understanding that that was the punchline.

“Sorry? I don't understand, Syed.  You told your mum...”

“It happened at the beginning of the year – something happened and I told her I thought I might be gay.”  Why was he making all these absurd qualifications?  Why couldn't he just say it without qualification?

“The beginning of the year?  So you mean you've known that you might be gay since the beginning of the year?”

You could say that.  “I told her that-”  Oh god, how had he thought it would be alright to tell her this?  “I told her that I probably shouldn't-”  He broke off then, dropping her hand and turning from her, the import of what he was about to say sticking in his throat.

She sat there, very still, her eyes fixed on his face.  She was wearing that nice perfume again.  No doubt he'd always associate that scent with her.  “You're talking about our wedding, aren't you?”

He nodded mutely, still not able to turn and look her in the eye.

“You married me even though you told your mum you might be gay.”  She made a sound that resembled a laugh, but mirthless, self-mocking.  “You told your mum you might be gay, but didn't think it was something I needed to know.”

“Amira.”  He had to turn to her now, face her.  He owed her that much.  She was staring at him, looking him over as though seeing him anew.  He couldn't tell whether or not she liked what she saw.  “I know that there is nothing I can say to make it up-”

“Please don't finish that sentence, Syed.  In fact, please leave me alone.”

|He sat like an idiot, looking at her profile now, as she turned from him.  This wasn't what he'd expected. He wasn't actually sure what he'd been expecting but this wasn't it.  Maybe he shouldn't leave her.  Did she have pills, anything sharp in the drawers or-

“You owe me that.”  Her voice was calm, cold and he realised that his fears were unjustified.  She wasn't the type to hurt herself – it would be more in her nature to hurt him.

“Amira...”

“And kindly tell your mother to stay away from me.”  She looked at him now, dark eyes flashing.  “Tell her to come nowhere near me or so help me -”

He rose swiftly, recognising the danger signs.  She might be slow to anger, but she was getting there and he was pretty sure that it would be better to be out of the line of fire when she blew.

“I'll be downstairs.”  When she simply glared at him he took the hint and left the room...

His mother was at the bottom of the stairs, not even pretending not to be listening.  “You told her?”  The question was sceptical, clearly she couldn't believe that he was unscathed, that there had been nothing broken, no ear splitting tirades or hysterical tears.

“None of your concern.  But-”  And he felt the curl of triumph in his gut. “She requests that you stay away from her.  I'd do it, mum.”

Her eyes were big, alarmed, aggrieved.  “What?  Me?  What have you been telling her?” Accusatory, vicious - as though she was a completely innocent party in all of this.

“I told her the truth, mum, that I knew I was gay before I married her.”  He paused, held her eye.  “And that you did too.”

She was speechless, staring at him in what seemed to him to be an accusation of betrayal and he realised that she had counted on Amira never finding out, had so counted on her ability to keep him in line that she simply hadn't prepared herself for this eventuality.  “And what-what did she say?”

“I just told you.” He walked past her to the kitchen, expecting her to follow.  “I'm going to make myself a sandwich and then I'm going out for a while.”  He'd go over to Christian's flat, water his plants, wait there for a while, probably sleep there, all depended on Amira...

“Syed.”

She was in the doorway, looking really agitated.  It had been a long time since he'd seen her look this concerned.  “Mum, she knows.  Sorry if that causes you an issue, but it's done now.  It was only a matter of time.  You know that.”

He could see her gaze narrow and knew that her thoughts were likely very unkind, but he wasn't about to allow her to affect him in that way.  “Oh 'only a matter of time', he says.  No, Syed it wasn't 'only a matter of time'.”  She was at his elbow, her finger punctuating each word with a hard poke to his arm.  “You chose to tell her, chose to destroy this family.  How do you think it's going to be when her father hears of this?  Oh you didn't think of that, did you, with your stupid 'confessions'.  Do you think that Amira's father will be as understanding as your mother?  Do you think he will sit back and see his daughter disgraced and let you happily go and set up home with your Christian?”  Her teeth were bared as she hissed the hated name.  “Oh you have made a big mistake, pappu.  And see if your precious Christian is worth it then!”  

He watched her slam out the door and jumped a little when the front  door banged shut a moment later.

Well she was right he really hadn't thought this through nearly hard enough.

He most certainly had not factored in Amira's father.

**

  
He heard her coming down the stairs and stopped mid-chew, feeling like a coward, hot with shame, unable to deal with her – in any capacity.  Funny how an entire relationship could change on a word, a sentence, a confession...

She didn't come into the kitchen.  He heard her at the front door and panicked, hurried out.  She had her largest case beside her, handbag over her shoulder, beauty kit in hand.  She turned as he came into the passage.

Her eyes were dry: she hadn't been crying, that was clear.  He didn't know if it was that she was in shock, but felt confident that once the reality hit her her calm would evaporate...

He didn't say anything and neither did she.  They stood considering each other, an unbridged chasm between them.  He didn't know if he'd be able to think of her as Amira, his friend, his companion any longer.  He didn't think she'd allow him that privilege.

“I'm staying at the flat for tonight.  Tomorrow I'll decide what to do.  I'll phone you.  We need to talk about this.”

“Yes,” he agreed numbly, wondering when the penny was going to drop.  Her calm was fucking unnerving.  He had truly not expected this from her.

Without another word she opened the door and let herself out, leaving the door wide behind her.  He stood in the doorway and watched her.  So small, so fragile, but at the moment she seemed to have twice his strength.  Ordinarily she would have pretended to be weak, got him to carry her bags for her, but today she was wearing low heels; her hair was tied up and she was carrying her own bags, not struggling: back straight, head held high.

He watched her out of sight, confusion in his head, a sourness in his chest.

This was good, wasn't it?  Great that she seemed to be taking it so well.  So why did he feel worse than he would have had she reacted as he'd expected her to, as his mother certainly would have done?

The nagging question that refused to leave as he closed the door at last, ducking in as he saw Ian Beale coming his way was: had he known her at all? Was she who he'd always believed her to be?

  
**

He phoned Christian: had to, had to touch base with normality, solidity, security.

He'd been feeling sick ever since she'd left, dreading the talk with her, dreading yet another encounter with his mother.  And he knew that there was still his father to deal with.  His father had said that there'd come a time when he was no longer angry with him, but from what Syed had seen that time was still a fair way off.

He needed to hear his voice, bathe in the warm balm of Christian's love...

“Hello, darling.  How are you?”

He hated when Christian called him darling and Christian knew it.  He smiled, understanding that he was trying to lighten the mood before it had a chance to descend into the doldrums.  “Sick as a parrot.”

“Oh?”

He could sense him sitting up.  Christian was an inveterate lounger, had elevated lounging to a fine art and Syed had often wondered how it was he could so quickly go from boneless to- Well... “I told her.”  There was a silence on the other end of the line and he tried to imagine the expression in his eyes.  “She took it well.”

“She did?  How?  I mean what happened?”

He shrugged.  “I told her and she told me to get out, but she was calm, Christian.  It was really weird.  It was as though she wasn't really shocked or surprised.  She was definitely angry, but it was quiet, sort of seething anger, I think.”

“Doesn't sound good.  I don't know, I think I'd have felt more comfortable if she'd just blown a gasket, threw her straighteners at you.”

“Tell me about it.  I actually wanted her to scratch my eyes out, hit me, get hysterical, anything but how she was.  She's over at the flat for the night.  Not sure if it's more to get away from me or to get away from mum.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.  I get the feeling that she blames mum as much for it as she does me.” Christian's silence spoke volumes.  Yeah he knew his mother had a lot to answer for but he just did not want to talk about her – at all. “So how are things with you?  Driving your flatmates round the bend yet?”

“Well that depends what you mean.”  His tone was full of innuendo.

“Oh and what does that mean?”

“Well can I help it if I'm a one man man and have to say thanks, but no thanks, to all comers?  Of course if you'd rather I was more charitable, shared my favours...”

“Don't you bloody dare!”  It was amazing how far he'd come in the space of a few weeks.  Time was when he'd not have been able to joke about this, would not have been able to accept the tease, see just how true Christian's statement that he was a one man man actually was.  “You'll need to conserve all your strength for me.”

“Oh is that right?”

“I'll wear you out.”

“Promises, promises. Prepared to put your money where your ...mouth... is?”

He laughed then just because he was happy, no other reason than that his heart was full and needed to express itself by overflowing into giddy laughter.

He knew Christian understood, no need to explain himself

“Oh I'll put more than my money there, believe it.”

Christian made a sound that he associated with intimate moments and he was immediately aroused – hot and aroused...

The sound of the front door closing and Tam's raised voice provided a very effective dose of cold water.  “Shit.  Gotta go.”

“Okay, but Sy, look after yourself, okay?”

He felt a lump come to this throat.  He was in trouble, his life was a mess and would no doubt get even more messy, very shortly, but those words, that tone was enough to make it all bearable.  “I will.  You do the same.”

“Always.”

  
**

His father and Tam were in the kitchen.  When their eyes met he gave a slight nod and his father gave his own nod, accompanied by a sigh. “Where is she?”

“At the flat.”

“She alright?”

“I think so.  She was very quiet.”

His dad pursed his lips, the look in his eye hard and quite unfriendly.  “And you're surprised?”

He'd known this was coming, no doubt deserved it, but what would it achieve except perhaps to make his dad feel better?  Well okay then, he owed him that he supposed.  He became aware of Tamwar standing there glancing from one to the other, a look of bewilderment on his face.  Oh.  Right. Tamwar.  He looked to his dad.  Should he be the one to tell him?  Did his dad even want him told at this stage?

“We were just making some sandwiches,” his dad said, making it clear that no, he didn't want Tamwar told.

“Just had one, thanks.”

“Yeah we know.”  His brother was holding aloft the butter knife he'd neglected to dispose of correctly, but had instead left to smear the worktop.  Well if that had been the least of his transgressions he'd have been a happy man!

“Good thing mum isn't here to see that.”

“Where is your mum by the way?  I thought she was home all day today.”

“Kamil was feeling a bit restless.  I think she took him for a walk.”

He could see that his father knew he was lying, but since there was obviously no point in pulling him up on it let it go.  “Well maybe we men should see about getting dinner ready.”  He ignored Tamwar's sour expression and clapped a strong, slightly painful hand on Syed's shoulder.  “You can be my right hand, man, Syed.”

“And I'm the left hand man?”

They both looked at him and he subsided with a roll of the eyes, opening drawers, muttering under his breath.

“I know how much you love peeling potatoes, Tam, so that's your task.”

“Do you know if mum had something planned?”  He was taking out flour and spices.

“Oh I'm sure your mother had something planned.  Your mother always does have something planned.”

Syed glanced at him, then at Tam, wondering how his brother couldn't detect the bitter undercurrent in their father's voice.  “There's lamb in the fridge.”

“Well lamb it is then.  I'm sure between us we can come up with something edible.”

No doubt.  And he had to admit that despite the tension between his dad and himself it was nice to have the three of them in here, working together.  They always had a laugh when they worked together like this and though he would never have admitted it till now it was better when his mum wasn't there.  She tended to ...change...things, not spoil exactly, but it was like she introduced an alien element, a female element, and that did make a difference.

“So am I still peeling potatoes?”

He and his dad exchanged a smile.  “Yes, Tam.  That whole bag, there.”

“What?  You are joking!”

Hiding a smile behind the open cupboard he allowed himself to feel gratitude that they could still do this, that his family was not completely lost to him.

He knew that it could all have been so very different...

**

Predictably his mother had nothing but criticism for the 'hash' they'd made of dinner.  The meal was perfectly cooked, perfectly presented, so he could only assume she meant that they'd used their initiative, cut her out of the equation and she was unimpressed. Or aggrieved.  Yeah aggrieved seemed more like it, he could tell by the look she sent his way.  It seemed to be saying 'Oh laugh it up, sweet boy, but just wait until they find out what you've done! We shall see who will be laughing then!”

It was as though she wanted to see him punished, wanted Amira (or Allah) to lay an almighty smackdown on him.  She'd tried it once and had failed so her hope was probably that a higher authority could mete out the punishment she could not.

Again he watched his dad observing her, observing the fact of the secret that was no more, observing her sharing the knowledge of the secret with her son.  He'd often thought that his mother greatly underestimated his dad and it was clear that she didn't credit him with enough wit and perception to be able to see that there was a secret between them.  Why else would she be sending these sidelong glares his way, lacing her supposedly innocuous words with a poisoned veil if not for the fact of there being something between then, something his dad was not supposed to know about?

He honestly didn't know how his dad was keeping it all in and didn't really understand why he was, why it was taking so long for him to confront her.  Maybe he needed Syed to sort things out with Amira first.

But the fact was that no matter how angry he was with his mother he still loved her and didn't want trouble visiting her door, especially not when it came from within the bosom of her beloved family.

Oh she loved them, loved them all to death, he had no doubt on that score.  Even when she was being hateful he had no doubt she loved him.  He just didn't think she liked or respected him very much...

**

He'd really wanted to go over to Christian's, spend the night there; he felt so comfortable there, so at home, like a grown up!  But he couldn't, not with Amira at the flat, and when he escaped upstairs to his room, what had so recently been their room, he saw that she had left part of herself there and felt unable to stay there either.

But he'd have to, but not in the bed – he was sure he'd never feel comfortable sleeping in that bed again.

It was funny how he'd been able to cope while he was still intent on keeping up the pretence, but now he'd feel ...defiled...were he to sleep there. Smell her perfume, see a stray hair on her pillow.

He knew that that bed would forever remind him of what he had come so close to losing...

**

Amira phoned him at midnight – sharp, short, to the point.

He quietly left the house and headed over to the flat, making sure not to wake the household.

**

She'd taken a few things from the flat, but the place hadn't been trashed as he'd been half expecting.

She'd been waiting by the window when he came in, again not turning, waiting for him to speak.

He couldn't find anything to say that wasn't trite and potentially triggering.  He felt like he was walking through a minefield, not knowing where his foot might land and accidentally trigger a blast.

So he waited and waited, leaving it up to her to decide the tenor of the encounter, her to say what she wanted...

The flat felt cold, empty – dead before it'd had had a chance to live.  Would he ever really have been happy here?  He remembered how it had felt; making plans to live here knowing Christian was only a breath, a touch away.  It had felt suffocating, unfair, as though The Fates were conspiring to ruin his life.  How could he lie with her every night, knowing that Christian was yards away, sleeping alone, or worse not sleeping alone?  Still, he'd been prepared to do it, try to do it, try to live that way.  But now he knew he no longer needed to try, the flat showed itself for what it was and he was sure he couldn't bear to spend a second more in its confines.

“How long have you known?”  She hadn't turned and he didn't insult her by pretending to misunderstand her question.

“Since I was at school.  For absolute certain when I was 17.”

“Is that when you lost your 'virginity'?”

He could feel the bitterness in her voice.  She'd been told that he was a virgin, that they were both virgins – another lie to add to the catalogue that, in her head, must be growing and growing... “Yes.”  There was no need to qualify that, say it had only been kissing and a hand-job since, for him, it was a loss of virginity, a loss of innocence in  many ways.  It had been too important to be so easily dismissed  – so, yeah, he had lost his virginity that day.

“But you like girls as well, don't you?”

He hesitated.  And cursed himself.  No, he couldn't lie, that would help no-one, but he did not want to hurt or humiliate her any further.  To tell her, let her think that each time he'd touched her, each time she'd touched him had been a turn off, no he would never do that to her!  “I'm gay, Amira.  I'm attracted to men, not women, but I do love you.  I did enjoy our time together...”

“Liar!”  Her eyes were damp, but she was angry, not sad.  “All those times when I wondered what the hell was wrong with me, all that time when you would do everything to avoid being in bed at the same time!  And all those excuses!  You liar, Syed, you didn't enjoy being with me at all!”

He stared at her, not knowing how to answer, knowing that nothing he said to counter her assertion would have an effect.  She'd seen him hesitate to touch her, do all he could to avoid intimacy.  Of course she was going to think she repulsed him.  She didn't want to know that he really did love her, that he put her right up there with his favourite people in the world.  Right now all she knew was that he didn't find her sexually attractive – and never had – and he couldn't lie abut that, could he?

“Amira I was wrong, wrong to not tell you, wrong to be such a coward that I didn't give you the opportunity to know who I really was, that I was never going to fully satisfy you in a certain department-”

Her mouth was working, eyes huge and bright with anger, but her voice was not angry, just sad.  “Yes, you should have.  I might have married you anyway, kept our secret.  I wanted you for you, Syed, not for what we could do in the bedroom.  I never knew what sex was supposed to be like so it wasn't something I would have missed in that way.  You would have been able to give us babies and you would have been a great husband, fantastic father.  Why do you think I married you?  It wasn't for your bedroom performance.  I just expected that it would be great, a nice part of married life, but if you'd told me, Syed, I could have handled it, it wouldn't have made a difference.”

“And if you fell in love with someone else?”

She laughed.  “Haven't you understand a single word I've said?  I'm in love with you, you, Syed, not sexually, just completely in love with you.  Why would I ever have fallen in love with anyone else?”

He stared at her, understanding at last what she was saying.

He couldn't believe it.  Was she serious?

“I'm so sorry, Amira.”

“Me too.  I thought we were friends.”

“Amira I have no excuse for what I did.  I used you, used your love for me to hide behind and I am deeply ashamed to stand in front of you now and confess to being this man, this man who could use a friend that way.”

“So you don't love me?”

“Yes, I do, Amira, you know that whatever else I may have lied about that isn't a lie.  I just can't love you that way, the way a man should love a woman.  And I want you to experience that, Amira.  As my friend, the woman I love, I want you to experience that.”

She considered him.  “And you want to experience it too, don't you?”

He felt his eyes flood with hot tears and merely nodded, unable to speak, the knowledge that he'd been prepared to deprive her of the possibility of ever feeling what Christian made him feel sickening.

“I'm angry with you, Syed, because you treated me like someone who didn't matter, you treated me like a pawn in your game – no feelings, no say, not trusting me the way a husband should trust his wife. You haven't acted with honour, Syed and I can't forgive you, but I think that you living with what you've done, knowing that if you'd been brave you could have had it all is all the punishment I need to satisfy my pride.  You've made me feel like less than a woman, Syed, made me question everything, everything about myself and although I may seem to be okay, Syed, I'm not, I'm not okay.  But I don't want you to ever help me or take care of me again.  You were my best friend, Syed, but you've made me question that too: who else is lying to me, one thing to my face, daggers in my back when I'm not looking?  Am  I such a fool that people think they can tell me lie after lie but because I'm a gullible idiot I'll believe them all?”  She closed her eyes, seemingly unable to continue, weary and disgusted – with herself, he surmised, as much as anyone.

He wanted to touch her, hold her in his arms, see her cry, get the poison out, but could no longer even imagine himself doing that.  Things had changed so drastically in the space of a day that he no longer even felt that body memory of her in his arms, the feel of her frame against his.  She might as well have been a woman in Purdah, a woman he had certainly never been allowed to touch with intimate familiarity.  
   
So he waited once again,  waited for her to make the next move, which as far as he could see was always going to be hers to make.

It surprised him.

She left him, went into the bathroom, came out a few moments later, make-up applied, hair down – a different woman.

“I called a taxi.  The driver will come up and help me downstairs with my bags.  I meant it when I said I didn't want you to help me.  Obviously the rent's been paid for the next three months and I'm not interested in getting my money back.  That's gone and I'm not going to demand anything back from you, Syed, so don't expect me to cripple you financially or anything.  I think it's best to keep the marriage, allow it to be legally annulled.”  She raised a hand to prevent his response.  “It's going to be easier for both of us.  Later we'll get legal advice – if we both feel we need it.  I don't care what the community says, Syed – my marriage failed and although I'm expected to feel shame I don't, but I'm not going to make things any more difficult for myself than they need to be.”  They both turned automatically to look at the window, the car horn splitting the stillness of the night. “I need to ask you one last thing, Syed.”  Her eyes were direct, daring him to meet her head on without flinching.  “Was she the only other person who knew?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.  “Mum was the only one.”

  
**

  
He was awoken by the sound of someone banging on the outer door to the flats.  Looking at his watch he saw that it wasn't even 6 0 clock yet.  Who the hell could it be?  And as he came fully awake Syed felt his heart sink.  How could he be so stupid?  It must have something to do with Amira: her father coming to give him a piece of his mind.  And look at him, half asleep, wearing his lover's scent...He couldn't face him in this state.  So he kept very quiet, ignored the persistent knocking, telling himself it wasn't because he was afraid, wasn't through cowardice that he was sitting on the bed he and Christian shared, arms wrapped around the Christian-scented pillow as if for protection.

“Syed! Syed!  It's me.  Open the door!”

Dad! Oh thank god.  Jumping out of bed he went to the window, saw his dad peering up at the window to the other flat, turn as he caught the movement from the other window and nod at him. He nodded back and hurried to get dressed, eschewing footwear, electing instead to run barefoot down the stairs.  “Dad! What's wrong?  What are you doing here?”

“Look at you, your hair.” His dad was grinning at the sight of him, his previous serious demeanour giving way to his customary mock of his son's unruly hair.  “What's that they say – dragged through a hedge backwards?” His dad looked seriously tickled, hands probably itching to get into the thatch, mess it up some more.  “Well are you going to let me in? It's freezing out here.”  His dad was not dressed for work, but his body clock was such that he seemed unable to lie in even when work was not a factor

“Yeah, of course, come in.” He preceded his dad up the stairs, thought for  a moment then ducked into Christian's flat and came out with the keys for the other flat.  “In here.”

They automatically went into the kitchen area, the kettle in his hand and filling with water before he was even consciously aware of what he was doing.  He'd hoped to spend time with his dad here – talk to him, laugh and joke with him, listen to his words of wisdom on the intricacies of keeping your wife happy and the household running smoothly...  Hardly likely to be talking to him about the joys of being Christian's one and only any time soon.

“Coffee for me, Syed.”  He stretched and yawned, making himself at home.  “Amira?”

“Gone, dad.  She came here for a few hours last night then a few hours ago caught a taxi.”

“Where to?”

“She didn't tell me.”

“And you didn't ask?”

“Dad, you weren't there.  She wouldn't have told me, she made that quite clear.  So I respected that and didn't ask.”

He'd turned to him, daring him to argue with that, but his father merely pursed his lips and said.  “No milk today.”

“Watching your figure?”

“Well I should, no-one's likely to watch it for me, but no, just feeling a bit queasy.”

Syed looked at his father. He looked tired, more so than usual and he knew he shouldn't but couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt, sharp in his belly.  “I don't think we've got any antacid.”

“Well maybe Christian has.”

The words were innocuous but the manner in which they'd been delivered was not.

The two men regarded each other in silence.

“You might as well say it, dad, say what you want to say.”

“I'm here because I found out that neither of you stayed in the house last night.  I knew of course that Amira was over here, but I didn't know where you were, what was going on.  That's why I came.”

“I know, I know, dad, and I probably should have let you know what was going on, but-”

His dad put up a hand.  “Stop it, stop it.  You don't need to apologise for dealing with your wife in the way you saw fit.  I'm sorry that I gave you that impression.”  With a sigh he leaned back against the counter top.  “Syed, being a parent... Even when your kids grow up, they never do, not in your eyes.  You still want to protect them, stop them from making mistakes, hurting themselves.  And you still think you can tell them what to do.  I know I can't, Syed.  I can suggest to you, ask you, but I can't tell you what to do.”  He took the cup Syed handed him with a nod of thanks.  “Do you know, it's only been recently – the last few days, Syed, that I came to accept that my children are individuals and that it's only through their choice that they'll stay in the family unit – the way we, as parents want them to?  It took this, this incident to make me see that.  I have never thought of you as a man, Syed, just as my boy, my errant boy who can be charm itself, but doesn't always act the way I want him to.  But what right did I have? I left home when  I was younger than you are now, moved away from the influence of my parents, did what I thought was right for me and Zee, for my family.  My father didn't agree with it, my brother didn't agree with it, but I did it because I knew it was the right thing for me, not for them, for me.”  His eyes were soft and kind.  “I've been angry with you, son, so angry, but I realised that it's because you weren't doing things the way I thought they should be done, the way I would have done and I don't have that right.  Who you are, who you are as a man, as a Muslim, that's for you to decide – not for me, not for your mum, not even for the Imam.  I don't need to tell you the Koran's words on homosexuality, so I know that you're aware of what you're doing...”  He paused here as though waiting for Syed's confirming nod.  “Okay, so what we have to think about next is Amira.  Did she say what she planned-?”

“I'd give her time, dad, but she says we should stay married, not tell anyone why we separated, get the marriage legally annulled.”

His dad's nod was thoughtful.  “That does make sense.  Did she say anything about her father?”

Yes, Amira's father – he was the wild card here.  “She didn't.”

“He's going to be a problem.”

Yeah he thought so too.  The two men stood in thoughtful silence, sipping their coffee.

  
“You thought about what you're going to say to your brother?”

Syed shrugged.  “Just tell him, I suppose.”

Silence again as they each considered the younger Masood.   “And he never suspected, you never told him...”

“I never told him.”  He hadn't wanted anyone to know, so of course he hadn't told Tam the Mouth. He loved his brother but he could not lie for toffee and would have given it away possibly the day after learning the secret.  Not on purpose, but Tam, wise and mature though he could be, was also fairly tactless at times and most certainly couldn't stand up or lie to their mother...

“I was thinking.  How about the two of us – just me and you - go for a drive somewhere, out of the city, make a day of it, really sit down and talk.  I told you I'd be ready to listen, son.  I'm ready.  If you're ready to talk to me.”

Talk to his dad about Christian, about how it felt to be gay, to have let them all down, to be so in love he could hardly think about it let alone find the words to talk about it; how he couldn't believe  the poems and songs and all of those things he had believed belonged only to other people, men who were normal, loved women were true, were his to have ?  “Okay.  I'd really like that, dad.”

“Good,  good.  I've got tomorrow off.  Suit you?”

So soon? “Tomorrow's good.  Thanks dad.”

“Son.”  hHs dad hesitated, then sighing put his hand on Syed's shoulder , drawing his son's gaze to him.  “I love you.  I know I don't say it, haven't said it for years and I think that at times you've doubted that.  Syed, don't, don't son.  Come here.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, the tears stinging his eyes, blocking his throat.  He didn't recall ever hearing his father say that to him.  He was sure he must have when he was younger, but over the years... And it was true that he doubted it, had been in doubt for the past several years.

When his dad hugged him close, speaking nonsense words in Urdu he broke down entirely then, understanding that no, his father may not have said it in so many words, but the nonsense children's song he used to sing to him when he was young well that had been his way of saying it, as it was now...

  
**

His dad left shortly after and feeling lighter than he'd done for weeks Syed went back to bed, promising himself that in a couple of hours he'd wake Christian up and...remind... him exactly what he was missing.  And actually, now Amira was gone there was no need for him to stay away any longer, was there?

He could get the next available train... But no, maybe, maybe he should come down after he and his dad went on their road trip.  Yeah, wonderful, really – better -  to imagine capping off a perfect day with a nice topping of Christian.

He was still wearing a stupid grin when he drifted into sleep a few minutes later.

**

“So Amira has gone, back to her father?  How could you, Syed?  Do you know how it will look for us?  That man will waste no time at all spreading lies and rumours about us, us, Syed, our family, we who have done nothing to deserve this!”

She wasn't actually looking at him, concentrating instead  - or so it seemed to Syed - on trying to take the varnish off the table with the duster she was using to polish it.

He said nothing – what was there to say at this stage?  She couldn't make him feel any more guilty than he already did and talking to her, engaging with her would simply lead to more pointless arguing...

“Oh nothing to say? Oh of course not, now you've got what you want.”  She had turned now, leaning one arm on the table, duster held threateningly in the other. “And Christian, I suppose you've told him the 'good news' uh? And now that your wife has been sent away in shame and total humiliation he expects to come crawling back to take her place in your bed?  I am ashamed, ashamed of you, Syed!”  As she moved toward him he instinctively stepped back, the memory of her previous attack fresh in his mind.  And turned, startled, as a body stopped his progress.

His father was there in the doorway, a hand steadying him as he momentarily lost his balance.  “Syed, take your brother to your flat.  I don't think he's seen it since you finished decorating has he?”  He wasn't looking at Syed, gave the impression that he wasn't even fully aware of his presence in the room.

“Yes, dad.”

He left, went upstairs to talk to Tam, take him out of the house, heart aching as a premonition came to him – that he would never again be happy in this house, that this would never again be the family home they had come to know and love.

  
**

“Am I supposed to be surprised at this startling revelation?”  Tamwar had crumbs round his mouth and a smear of jam on his cheek.  “Not exactly earth shattering news, Syed.”

“What?  What do you mean?”

He swallowed, wiped his mouth.  “What do I mean?  I mean that it was obvious.  You and Christian-”

“What?  What about Christian?”  Why  was he panicking?  This was Tam for god's sake.  “Who said anything about Christian?”

Tam had this way of looking at you sometimes like you were the dumbest thing he had ever or could ever hope to see.  “Well to be fair you didn't, but you didn't need to.  Syed, okay I admit I didn't know you were that way inclined, but I knew there was something going on between you and Christian - just that he fancied you and you weren't exactly turned off.”

“Tam! Just please stop right there!”  He couldn't believe this!  He was actually blushing!

“What, I thought that maybe you were a bit...curious.  Nothing wrong with that.”

“No?”

“Look, I know what the Koran says, but that doesn't stop people being gay.  Didn't stop you, did it?”  Syed simply looked at his brother, lost for words.  “I always thought she was too good for you.”

“Funny.”  He sighed, both uneasy and relieved.  “So you sort of saw that me and Christian...”

“Excuse me!” He looked disgusted.  “I did not see anything!”

“You know what I mean.”

 Tam took a gulp of his still hot tea.  “He fancied you, you flirted,  that's all I saw.”

Did that mean other people had seen it too.  But Tamwar was a pretty perceptive guy.  “Mum and dad both know.”

“Yep, I imagine they do.”

“You've noticed the atmosphere.”  Not a question.

“Not suffering from sensory deprivation so yeah I noticed.”

Syed watched his brother's face.  “And you're okay – with me, I mean, me being gay.”

Tamwar gave him the 'god you're stupid' look again.  “What's it got to do with me? You're the one who's gay, not me.”

“Tam, come on.  Are we okay?”

 His brother took a while to answer, swallowing the last bite of toast, wiping his mouth.  “Syed, I can't pretend to know how it feels to be...gay.  I don't know how you even had the guts to tell mum about it and I know how hard it must be for you with the Koran, and the Mosque and everyone telling you it's haraam.  But you're my big – well not that big – really annoying big brother and this is nothing, doesn't even come close to making us not okay.  It's no big deal for me, I expect it's more of a big deal for you.  But if you mean will I have a problem knowing you're into men and not women, then no, no I don't and I won't.  Just maybe keep Christian off the guest list for family meals!  I like to eat my meals off a plate not off the walls.”  He gave Syed a steady, very perceptive look.  “Mum doesn't like him, does she?”

Understatement.  “No, she doesn't.  Do you?”  He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice, determined to get a honest answer, but wasn't sure he'd been successful.

His brother shrugged, looking restless.  “He's okay.  Don't know him that well.”

“But you want to?”

Another shrug.  “I'll have no choice will I?”

And that was probably as good as he was going to get so best to just leave it.  “Me and dad are going to Burnham Beeches tomorrow.”

Tam looked puzzled as well he might.  “O-kay.  Why exactly?”

“Dad's idea.  Wants us to talk, I think.”

“Well be sure to check the boot before you head off.  Make sure he hasn't got a shovel in there?”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”  But it was true, only a few short weeks ago he'd have been thinking the exact same thing...

“So no more Amira then.”

Syed examined Tamwar's expression, trying to read it.  “You had a bit of a thing for her, didn't you?”

“It's traditional isn't it, to take care of your brother's wife if something happens to him.”

“I really don't think Amira would want anything to do with any of us after this, Tam.”

“Were you really horrible to her?  Did she catch you and Christian-?”

“No and No!  Amira was pretty cool.  Upset, of course, but cool.”  he really didn't want to talk about any of this, but he did sort of need to, was determined to stop shutting his family out of his life the way he always had and he hated not talking to Tam the way they'd done when they were younger.  “I didn't tell her about me and Christian.”

Tamwar's eyes were big, his mouth a round O.  “I see...”

“I think it was the right thing to do.”

Tamwar's expression came to a different conclusion, but he shrugged and merely said.  “If you say so.”

“I do.”  He knew it was the right thing to do. Tamwar, not being aware of all the ramifications involved, could only see one tiny aspect of the thing, but that didn't matter for now.  In time they'd be able to sit down and talk about it.  “So, how do you feel about doing me a favour?”

He looked suspicious.  “What?”

“Christian's coming down on the train tomorrow and I won't be there to meet him, I'll be with dad...”

 Tam looked at him .  He looked at Tam.  “What and you expect me to meet him?  Why, he's a big boy- er rephrase that -   I assume he's a big boy.  No let's rephrase that one too-”

“Tamwar!”

“Okay, okay. I'll meet him! God, being gay doesn't stop you from being bossy does it?”

Syed looked at him, and laughed.

**

He and Tamwar stayed at the flat that night – him in Christian's and Tam in the other.  (It occurred to him that since they'd paid the rent for 3 months then some member of his family would be likely be making use of it.  Wasn't sure he relished that prospect).  

They'd gone home and come face to face with their parents in full cry.  It looked like they'd been arguing for hours and had reached the stage where were they to exchange anther word something would end up broken.  

So he'd grabbed a few things, made Tam do the same and headed back to the flats.

Turned out Tam had plans and in the end he'd spent most of the day by himself, only venturing out to pick up a few essentials.

It felt strange being here without Christian. Whenever he'd been here Christian had been very much part of the equation.  The flat seemed to lose its shape without his presence.

He desperately wanted to get in touch with him, spend all day on the phone with him, but no, anticipation was so much better.  Christian's voice had promised quite a reunion and in truth he sort of wanted to get himself worked up to fever pitch.  Fever pitch for them was good – very good...

He didn't know how he was going to spend all day with his dad and not explode with the joyous anticipation of being with Christian once more. But he also wanted to enjoy every moment he had with his dad, because he knew that for a while to come his family was going to be jagged, nowhere like the unit they had been and still should be.

And he was to blame.  It had been his secret that had created the first major crack, everything else, all the smaller cracks had stemmed from that one, so he was responsible.  And though he knew Christian (and probably his dad) would tell him not to, he knew that he was going to blame himself for that – no way not to.

**

“So you don't know when you're going and you don't know when you'll be back.”

He hadn't phoned Christian, Christian had phoned him, so that didn't count did it?  “No idea.  Knowing my dad he'll want to go out at the crack of dawn and I can't see us being out all day, so I'm pretty sure that you'll have a nice surprise waiting for you when you open the door to your flat.”

“Oh like what – you wearing just a bow, waiting for me in my bed?”

“That could be arranged.”

“Arrange it.”

**

Well he'd been wrong about the crack of dawn.  He'd been up for hours, surmising that the sooner he got to it – the road trip – the sooner it would be over and he'd be able to return to ...arrange...things for Christian....

And had been waiting and waiting.

He'd checked in with his dad the night before, anxious about the situation at home, but his father had assured him that nothing had changed, they were still going that day and no, things weren't fine with his mother, but he was dealing with it and to look after Tam until he saw them the following day.

Well that had been him told, but if his dad wanted to take charge of it all, keep him out of it as much as possible then it wasn't his place to question that.

  
**

“No, I still want you to meet him.  Give him this.”

“What's this?”  Tam looked at the small package as though it might contain a ...sextoy...or something.

“Just give it to him.  From me.”  He couldn't help the grin as he imagined Christian's face when he opened the package, then laughed out loud as he saw the expression his grin had produced on his brother's disgusted face.  “You'd better make sure not to open it then.”

Holding the package by its ends he made sure it was as far from his person as he could possibly manage.  “So I shouldn't be there when he opens it then.”

Syed laughed, clapped his brother on the back.  “I wouldn't advise it, no.”

“Great, just great, now I have a gay brother who tries to involve me in his sex life.  Happy, happy days!”

  
**

“Tam's agreed to pick Christian up at the station.”

His dad glanced at him, then back to the line of traffic stretching ahead of them.  “And Christian needs meeting does he, forgotten his way to Walford?”

“No, well I'd meet him, but since I can't I thought-”

“You'd send a welcoming committee, a proxy Syed.” His dad snorted in some amusement.  “I don't know, son, Tamwar as a proxy?  You sure?”

“Oh stop it, now you're worrying me!”

He and his dad looked at each other then burst out laughing.

  
**

“So you've known for a good while then.”

His dad had packed a lunch and they'd found a quiet spot to picnic.  It was a nice day and the view was spectacular.  He didn't know why or if it was merely a product of his imagination but the further from Walford they'd driven the more relaxed his dad had become until now he was calmness itself.

“Since I was at school.”

“And you kept it a secret all that time?  I mean I never suspected a thing, son.  Not even a hint.”

“Well I didn't want to be, dad.  I didn't accept that I was and I knew it wasn't going to stop me getting married and starting a family.”

“You were going to suppress your...feelings.”

“Dad, I did suppress my feelings.  Until Christian I suppressed them almost completely.”

  
His dad was concentrating on the salad in the bowl, avoiding his eyes.  “And he was your first.”

God, dad...  “I-no, not exactly.”

A silence fell between them then, uncomfortable, embarrassed, but that was all.  Could have been worse – a lot worse.  He was talking about sex – to his dad – of course it was going to be uncomfortable.  “Son, you know I don't judge people.  The Koran says homosexuality is wrong and I've always believed that to be true, but I respect that not everyone shares my beliefs.  We brought you up to follow our ways, believe as we do, but you don't, do you? It's okay, I don't always find it easy at times.  The rules don't always make sense, especially when you're living in this country, and I know that there are times – many times – when we, all of us, ignore the rules when it suits us.  It says that homosexuals are an abomination and I know that's not true.”  He held his gaze.  “Christian isn't, you aren't.  It is a sin in the eyes of Islam, but I can't condemn you for a sin, Syed.  We all of us commit sins every single day – do I pick and choose who to condemn and who to forgive?  I don't have that right.”  He sighed, replaced the cover on the salad bowl.  “You know you go through life, not giving too much thought to the things you take for granted and to my shame my religion is something I do take for granted.  This, seeing you and Christian, realising who you were made me give a lot of thought to my religion, Syed.  My faith is important to me, but it can't come before my family because my faith is me, Syed.  Yes it's a public thing – sometimes a little too public - but it's also a private thing, between me and Allah, and I won't put myself before the welfare of my children, which is what the community would have me do  - put face before my children's welfare.  That is something I will not do.  I will face the wrath of Allah when my time comes, but that I'd rather do than disown my child, abandon him.  I did that before, Syed, and I was wrong.  No, listen to me.  What you did was wrong, it was worse than this because that was something you did have control over, you did that with eyes wide open, knowing you were hurting us and I was right to be angry, right to want to punish you, but wrong for disowning you.  Do you have any idea how it feels to hear your children cry at night, your grown up children, crying because they feel so alone, feel they've no-one to turn to?  I didn't know what was wrong, Syed, I had no idea, but I heard you cry and I didn't help you, turned my face away and pretended not to hear.  And when I found out, realised how unhappy you must have been all these years, how desperate you must have been to come back home, how hard you felt you had to try to impress me it made me rethink my attitude when I disowned you, made me wonder what exactly love meant to me, that I could reject you for one mistake.  You see I thought that that was a parent's duty – to punish their children when they transgressed, to disown them if the offence was bad enough.  That's our way, what the Koran teaches us, that we have a duty to recognise and punish sin as an example to the community and as a show of devotion.  But I no longer think that's right – for me.  I don't judge anyone else, but there comes a time in every parent's life when it comes down to a choice between following your faith or following your heart.  I thought I would disown you, Syed, I really did, but I couldn't.  When it came to it I realised that my heart wouldn't let me.”

He hadn't really been looking at his father as he made this speech, surprised by and interested in his words but as the silence lengthened he found himself looking up.

His dad was sitting as he was, legs crossed, hands held loosely between his thighs, eyes fixed on the remnant of their picnic.

“Thank you.”

And there was no need for more: they had both said all they needed to say, years of hurt and misunderstanding well on the way to being healed.

**

“No you were terrified of horses.  You really don't remember?”

“No,” he laughed, side by side with his dad on the rough, natural path that led to their ultimate destination.  He'd stripped to his t-shirt, his dad to shirtsleeves, the sun high in the sky and blazing.  “I don't remember any encounters with horses at all.”

“How about donkeys, any recollection of any encounters with donkeys?”

“What? “  Now he was really laughing.  “Donkeys?”

  
“Yeah when you were about 5, I think, we went to Morocco.  Oh something about your mother wanting to see the markets or something.  It was good, fun.  You were a big hit!”

“And the donkey?”

“You really don't remember?”

“I don't even remember the holiday.”

“I'm surprised, you had nightmares for weeks afterwards.  No, I think even a year later you'd still sometimes have the donkey nightmare.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Not sure, exactly, but let's just say that what should have been a donkey turned out to be a camel.  Donkeys I think you could have handled, but not a camel.”

“A camel now? So basically I was scared of any four-legged animal.”

“Cats, dogs.  Mice.”

Laughing, he protested.  “ I was never afraid of cats.”  A look at his dad's face.  “Really?”  God he just hoped his dad and Christian never became so pally that they'd share any of these childhood tales.  He would never live it down!

“To be fair I think your mother had a lot to do with that.  She hates the things doesn't she?”

They were silent as the mention of his mother's name effectively altered the atmosphere.

His dad hadn't said anything about her, but they couldn't not talk about her forever.  “How is she?”

His dad didn't answer at once, but Syed knew he would so waited.

“She's staying with a distant cousin up in Lancashire.  They haven't seen Kamil since he was born – we haven't had the time to really visit distant family...”

“I know.  Nice break for her  - I'm sure they'll make a fuss of him, take him off her hands.”  His dad's glance spoke volumes.  No, his mum wouldn't actually appreciate that, would she? “She caught the train?”

“Coach.”

“Yes, that's better.  Longer, but it's not so crowded.  And when she gets there?”

“Oh they're picking her up.  She'll be fine.  They both will.”

And that was, apparently, that.  He knew his dad well enough to recognise the manner and the tone – subject very much closed.

“Speaking of Lancashire, Christian should be on his way by now.”   He tried to keep the emotion from his voice because, well it was his dad wasn't it and it was embarrassing, but he could tell by the look he caught in his peripheral vision that he hadn't been entirely successful.

“Really?”

He didn't reply, finding himself blushing, cursing himself for saying anything at all.

“Syed, you do know it's going to take time for me to accept your relationship.  I respect that it's your life, of course I do, but it's not easy for me to adjust my thinking.  Give me time.  I'll do my best, but I can't switch just like that.”

“Sorry, “ he said, deflating like a pricked balloon.

“Don't be.  I'd rather we were honest with each other.  Yeah?”

He nodded, unable to speak.  Of course his dad couldn't accept it, he should have expected this, but it was hard, hard to know that had Christian been female...

“And I like Christian – that's half the battle won already, isn't it?”

True, and he knew it.  It was just hard not being able to be spontaneous, natural and genuine when it came to expressing his feelings for his lover.  “I just wish you could know him the way I know him, dad.”

“Well actually, son, I'm very much hoping never to get to know him that way.”

At first he was offended, glaring at his dad, ready to have a go, until he got his meaning, belatedly noticed the twinkle in his eye, and cursed himself  for a bloody idiot.

His dad put a hand in his hair and ruffled it. (The thing he'd probably been itching to do all day).  “Relax, Syed.  It's going to be alright.  Everything's going  to be alright.”     

And as they fell into step, closer than they'd been in years, Syed agreed that, yes, everything was going to be alright...

**

“I'll drive.”

“You sure? Traffic's probably going to be quite bad.”

“No, I don't mind.”  He caught the keys and went toward the driver's side, raising an eyebrow as he heard the first notes of his dad's awful ring tone.  “Dad,” he grimaced.  “Get another ring tone.  Please.  It's embarrassing!”

His dad made a face, but was holding the phone to his ear and chose not to respond. “Tam? Slow down, slow down.  What?”

Syed hesitated, the door handle in his hand.  “Dad?”

“No! No, don't do that.  Phil Mitchell?  Who else?  Okay, well alright,  then but do not get involved.  I know, son, I know, but there's nothing more you can do. You did the right thing.”  His eyes met Syed's.  And didn't leave his son's face. “Go home and wait for us.  Oh are you?  Okay.  We'll see you there.  No, no calm down, Tamwar, calm down.  Please don't worry about that.  I'll take care of it.  We'll be there as quickly as we can. Okay.  Bye.”  He shoved the phone in his pocket and with a decisive forward movement took the keys from Syed's fingers.  “I'm driving.  Get in.”

“Why, dad, what's wrong? What's happened?”

“It's Christian.  He's hurt.”    

  
**

They'd cleaned the blood.  Tried to.   But blood wasn't that easily removed -  or covered up.  He could see traces of Christian's blood all over the place, in corners, on the stairs - minute specks of it they'd missed.

He put a hand against the cold wall, surprised that he felt so little.  A part of him had started to shut down the moment they'd got the car rolling.  

His dad hadn't had much to say, clearly trying to keep calm himself so as to keep his son calm.  But Syed could feel the tension coming off him, sense the way he was telling himself not to take stupid risks in order to get to Walford quicker.

He didn't know what had happened, recognised that he had to  keep it all locked away or he'd fall apart, so he'd closed his eyes, breathed deep...and shut himself away...  

End of part 3       
                                                          

**

The phone rang as Lew was in the middle of a hilarious tale involving his work colleagues so he answered it without paying much attention to the number displayed.  He pretty much expected it to be Syed anyway and was in that mild and mellow mood that was only intensified by talking to him.  “Hello.”

“Christian?”

He hadn't ever experienced the sensation of  having ice cold water poured over his head, but he rather suspected that this is what it might feel like. “Amira!”

“I hope I'm not disturbing you, Christian, but I just need to ...talk.  I really need to talk to someone.”

He clambered to his feet, making a gesture of apology to his friends and left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.  “No, no it's alright.  Just give me a sec.”  Eyes closed he held the phone to his chest for a minute, mind and heart racing.  How could he have been so stupid!  She had his number and she didn't know about him and Syed – of course she was going to phone him!  Taking the stairs two at a time he sought the refuge of his bedroom.  “Sorry about that.  It was a bit loud downstairs.”

“Look, if you're busy...”

“Don't be silly.”  He had no clue how the hell he was going to handle this, but he had to try to act normally.  Oh god...

“Thanks, Christian and I know you know I don;t want to cause you any problems.”

“I know, of course I do.  Now come on, I've sat down, haven't got myself a cuppa tea yet, but I'm ready to listen...”  How long could he keep this up?

“It's times like this that I wish I drank, I mean really really drank!”

Funny how Masood had also turned to thoughts of alcohol once learning of Syed's sexuality... “Anything I can do to help...”

“You know that Syed and me...”  She hesitated as if not sure how to finish that sentence. “We've split up.”

“Yes.”  He felt that he should add: 'I'm sorry' but couldn't summon up the requisite amount of hypocrisy.  Yes, he was sorry she was hurt, sorry it had had to come to this, but no he wasn't at all sorry they had split up.

“I'm so confused, Christian, so hurt.  I mean I keep trying to be alright with it and I don't hate him, but I'm hurt, hurt that he could deceive me that way and I hate myself for being so gullible.”

“You loved him, he told you, led you to believe he was straight.  How does that make you gullible?”

“But all those times when he wouldn't... I should have known, should have thought instead of deciding it was because I was so inexperienced.  I've been so stupid!”

“Now stop that, just stop it.  You are not stupid.  Syed's the one at fault – and he knows that, Amira.  He doesn't blame you.  How could he blame you?”

“But why didn't I guess?  Why did I believe him?  I wanted it so much Christian, wanted him so much.  And the thing is it was okay, we were good friends.”  Her laugh was mocking.  “Yeah, good friends – that's all we were, all we could ever be.”

He didn't know what to say.  This was so incredibly painful, bringing into harsh focus the fact of his deceit.  No he hadn't wanted to deceive her, but he'd done it anyway, allowing her to confide in him, treat him as her friend while all the while lusting after the man she loved.  Did he have any more right to happiness than she did?  She wanted Syed, he wanted Syed.  Syed wanted both of them.  Did he have the right to decide that what he had with Syed was more valid than her relationship – friendship - with him?

“Christian, would you be honest with me if I asked?”

“Yes.”  he braced himself, determined that if she asked straight out he'd tell her.  He didn't want to hurt her, but was no longer willing to deceive her.

“Did you know he was gay, all the time we were together, did you know?”

Well it wasn't quite the question he'd been dreading , but it was bad enough.  “I knew.”

“And he asked you to keep it secret.”  Statement.  No anger or resentment evident in her voice.  She had obviously had a lot of time to think things through.

“Amira, I wanted to tell you.  He sort of did too, but- Look I don't really understand your religion, but I know enough to know that it's tantamount to social suicide to admit you're gay.  He was struggling – every day, Amira he struggled to be a good Muslim and suppress his sexuality.  He loves you, Amira, you've got to believe that.  You're his best friend, his partner.  Hurting you killed him.  He would have done anything, up to and including never telling you, to save you from being hurt.  Never believe that he did this lightly.  It was the hardest thing he has ever had to do.”

There was a long, long silence on the other end of the line and when she spoke her words rocked him back.  “So, you're in love with him too.”

He felt the panic start, but he wasn't going to deny him.  He was never, ever going to deny him.  “Very much, yeah.”

Another thoughtful silence.  “He confided in you.”

“Yes.”

“Because you understand, because you're gay.”  Somewhere between a statement and a question like she was slowly working herself up to a conclusion, thinking out loud.

“I suppose, yeah.”

“And you're in love with him.”  Very thoughtful now.

He took a deep, deep breath. “Yeah.”

“You promised to be honest with me, remember?”

“Yeah.”  here it came.

“Are you the reason he broke up with me?”

Oh god, no, not that question.  Not that one...  “Amira, no, no, I'm not.  Syed told you he was gay because he could no longer bear to deceive you, live a lie.  It had nothing to do with me.”

Another silence.  “Were you sleeping with him?”

“Yes we slept together, once or twice before you got married, but he ended it when you got married.”

“So since we've been married he has never had sex with you.”

Oh this was excruciating. He had had no idea how it would actually feel to be in this position.  “Amira...”

“Honest, remember?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“And he broke up with me around that time.”  Her voice was no longer thoughtful, but confident, certain.  “He broke up with me to be with you.”

“No, Amira, it's not like that.”

“Christian, thanks.  Thanks for your help.”  She rang off, the sudden deadness of the line as loud as a shout.

Oh god, what had he done?

**

He thought about getting in touch with Syed, but decided against.  He had enough on his plate, why add to his anxiety?  It wasn't as if there'd been any way to guarantee Amira never finding out about them.  It might have been better had it happened later rather than sooner, but it had been an inevitability.  No point in burying their head in the sand on that score.

But the sooner he got to see Syed the better.  God he missed him!

**

“I thought you were meeting me at the tube.”

“Apparently not.”  Syed's brother looked mightily unimpressed, several inches taller than he'd been a week ago. Or was that just him?

“Well take this, then.”  He handed him his smallest bag, grinning into his face.  He wasn't going to make a fuss, but the fact that Syed had asked his brother to meet him and his brother had agreed – however reluctantly – really touched him.  “Sorry about the delay.  You know British Rail.”

“Don't worry I brought sandwiches and my ipod.”

Christian grinned.  He liked Syed's brother, always had.  He seemed as unlike Sy as it was possible to get – so laid-back, so relaxed about everything.  Probably the consequence of being the youngest, most of the pressure to do the family proud taken on by the eldest – Syed. “You got your ticket?”

Tamwar rolled his eyes.  “I'm 18 not 8!  I do know how to get out of a train station.  I can cross the road by myself too.”

“Oh?  Syed can't.  Needs me to hold his hand, “ he confided, winking and laughing as Tamwar made a face of disgust...

**

“Don't think I want any details or anything, but how did you know he was gay?”

They were walking down the street, in Walford at last, heading for his flat.  “How?  Do you mean did I employ Gaydar?”

“I suppose.  I mean I didn't know he was gay, none of us did...”

“I didn't know, either, Tamwar.  I rally didn't.  But he- well I suppose you could say he told me he was.”

He could see Tamwar frowning at that. “So he told he was.”

“Pretty much.”  No need for anyone but them to know how he'd found out that Syed was attracted to men...  He could see that Tamwar was still frowning over this response so decided to distract him a little.  “You don't have a problem with Sy being gay do you?”

“Oh like I'm going to tell his muscle-bound boyfriend that I have a problem with him being gay!”

Christian roared with laughter.  “Muscle-bound?”

“Well let's be honest you do have more than you need.”

“Shall I let you into  a secret?”

“Not if it involves my brother and sex, no.”

Christian found himself laughing again, amazed how much being with Tamwar had elevated his spirits.  “Well looks like our conversations are going to be really short and boring then.”

“Short and boring is fine with me!”

“Noted!”

they walked in companionable silence, but when they came in sight of the flat Tamwar made an impatient sound, put a hand out to stop him and withdrew a small package from the carrier bag he'd been toting around with him.  “he told me to give you this.”

Taking the package – that weighed nothing – he frowned at him.  “What is it?”

“I pleaded with him not to tell me.”

Christian smiled, and after shaking the package a couple of times placed it in his pocket.  “Don't worry, once we get to the flat I'll open it and let you in on the secret.”

Tamwar didn't need to speak, his expression spoke volumes.

Christian put an arm around him, pulled him close for a moment.  He'd never had a younger brother and poor Tamwar was about to have two big brothers to tease the hell out of him.  “Oh you know you're dying of curiosity.  Admit it.”

Tamwar's squawk of protest was apparently the only response his brain was capable of making.

  
**

“Chips?”

“Fish and.”

“Bottle of pop?”

“Okay.”  He took the money from Christian and gave him the bags he'd been carrying in exchange.  “See you in a minute.”

“Okay.  Got some DVDs.”

“Proper DVDs?  I mean, not...gay...DVDs...”

“Proper DVDs,” he laughingly assured, watching as he walked the several yards to the chippy next door.  He was actually looking forward to spending time with a member of the Masood family that wasn't Sy.  How amazing was that?

  
**

The first blow knocked him off his feet, the second came at him before he had a chance to react, but then his instincts kicked in and he rolled so his internal organs were protected as much as possible.

He had seen the first man, the man standing with Amira's father and he'd been talking – they'd been talking – so he just hadn't expected to be attacked from behind.  Amira's father hadn't even given any hint that the assault would be anything but a frontal one.  Oh he'd made his intention very clear – he intended to punish him for fucking with his daughter – but Christian had assumed that the other guy was  backup – the bully who'd hold him while Mr Shah laid into him.  But no, he hadn't touched him, just stood aside and watched, the expression on his face blank, clinical.

It was surreal, the pain shutting everything else out. He could hear voices, but they meant nothing, could smell his own blood, feel its warmth dripping on his skin, hear it splashing on the floor, heard his own breath whistling through his lungs, but it meant nothing.

He had been hurt before, but this was different – it was professional, careful, precise.  If they wanted to let him die then that's what would happen. If all they wanted were bruises, broken teeth and bones, why then that's what would happen.

He knew something was going on, someone else was here, the relentless assault was ending – had ended.  But he felt nothing, didn't care...

“Hold on, mate.  We're getting you help.”  Phil Mitchell.  Of all people, Phil Mitchell.  What the hell was Phil Mitchell doing here?  And Roxy?  What the hell?

He could smell her perfume, hear the tears in her voice as she tried to talk to him, but it didn't matter, nothing mattered.  He was so tired, felt numb, so numb.

“Christian, sweetheart.  Let go.  Let go.”

No!  No he wasn't going to...

“Let go of it.  Phil, he won't let it go.”

“Okay, mate. Listen.  You need to let it go.  It'll be alright, but you just need to relax your fingers...”

“No, it's okay.  Don't take it from him.”

Someone else.  Tamwar.  Syed's baby brother.  A weight on his wrist.  No, someone lifting his hand.  “It's okay.  I'll take it.  Keep it safe.  Let it go, Christian.  I'll keep it for you, keep it safe.”

“Promise?”  he tried to say, but his voice didn't sound right to him.

“I promise.  I promise.”  And he opened his eyes as he felt a warm splash on his face.

He wanted to  tell him it'd be okay, but the blackness took him then and the last thing he  felt were his fingers letting go...

**

  
“Syed.  Son.”  His dad was standing in the doorway, obviously struggling to be patient.

“I know.  I just can't.”

“Son, I know it's hard, but Tam says that the doctors say he's not in danger.  He regained consciousness – briefly – but he's going to be okay, Syed.”

He was sitting on the stairs, had been for what felt like hours, already making plans for the new flat they'd have, a flat that was nowhere near Walford, nowhere near this place which had seen his lover beaten not once but twice.  “There was a lot of blood.  Did you know that?  They had to clean it up because there was so much blood.”

His father said nothing and when Syed looked up he found himself astonished at the rage on his face.  “Dad?”  Getting swiftly to his feet he hurried to his father, genuinely fearful for him.  He had not expected this.  “Dad, he's okay.  You said so yourself.”

“And if he hadn't been?  If, god forbid, Tam hadn't been with him, hadn't had the presence of mind to get help?  What if Phil Mitchell hadn't been in the chip shop?  What if the other guys there hadn't wanted to help?”  His eyes were hard black pebbles.  “It was aimed at you – my son – they wanted to hurt you – my son.  I don't care that he's going to be okay, they set out to hurt you and if you think – if anyone thinks - that I'll sit back like a good little postie while my family is attacked...  What you did is not enough to justify this!”

“Dad, please.”  He found himself trying to calm his father, hold him back, stop him from doing god knew what.  It had honestly never occurred to him that his father would react this way, that he would genuinely see the attack on Christian as an attack on Syed.  “Christian wouldn't want this and I don't either.  I'm tired of it, dad.  I know I'm a jinx: I attract all this and because I'm with you all you get it too.  That beating should have been mine, not his.  What the hell has he ever done to deserve that?  I put him through hell.  Amira, I didn't hurt her dad – I only hurt her that once when I told her.  Do you have any idea how many times I broke his heart?”  He felt the prick of tears and a far distant part of his mind protested: he hadn't wanted this, hadn't wanted to cry.  He knew that once he started that small pressure would burst the banks and the dam would take down everything in its path.  He hadn't gone to the hospital yet for the same reason – trying to keep it together for as long as possible.

His dad said nothing, just put both arms around his son and hugged him tight.

  
**

Roxy looked surprised to see him, didn't look particularly friendly either.

“He's still a bit groggy, but the doctors say he'll be fine.”  Syed could tell Tamwar had been crying and he looked at him, wanting to thank him, wanting to cry in his arms, but this was his little brother and he'd obviously been trying to be strong for Syed's sake, look after Christian for his sake.

“Okay, thanks.  You eaten?”

“Not hungry.”  Tamwar was looking into his eyes, clearly trying to gauge Syed's state of mind, but his next words surprised him.  “I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have left him.  We were going to have fish and ships and watch some DVDs.  There was a huge queue in the chip shop and I came back to ask him if he was sure he didn't have anything in the freezer instead.  I heard shouting – in Urdu – someone really angry.  I knew Christian couldn't understand what he was saying, but I could.  I wanted to go in, tell him he was wrong, but-”  He paused here and Syed was puzzled by the expression in his eyes.  “I opened the door. They were at the top of the stairs and Christian was on the stairs, and when he turned and saw me he shouted at me.  I mean really shouted.  Told me to fuck off, get lost – acted like he didn't know me!  And...and I did...I – left him.  I didn't know what else to do, Syed.”

Syed put an arm around him, pulled him to one side.  “Tam, you did the right thing. Christian was trying to protect you-”

“You think I don't know that?  I know that, but I shouldn't have left him.”

Syed looked over to his father who was watching them, hands shoved impotently in his pockets.  “You didn't leave him, Tam.  You saved him.”  And the tears were coming again.  “You saved him.”  He pulled his brother into his arms.  “Thank you, thank you,” he whispered through the tears, wondering if anything would ever be whole again, was capable of ever being fixed.

  
**

Obviously he believed that after Jane he was next on the list of significant people allowed to see Christian.

Roxy thought differently.

She cornered him by the vending machine, blue eyes electric in her pale face.  “They were Pakistanis - the thugs who beat him up - and I may not be the brightest tool in the box but it doesn't take a genius to know that they must have had something to do with you.”

Ignoring her he carried on feeding money into the machine.

“Did you see what they did to him? No, well I did.  I was there, saw him covered in blood, in so much fucking pain he couldn't think straight.  I saw those thugs – the size of them. One punch could have killed him, but no they went about it systematically, like they were fucking enjoying it.  He didn't even have a chance to defend himself.  The cowards jumped him – three of them, three! They beat him, stamped on him- I-”  She paused as he fell against the machine, then slid to the floor, certain he was going to be sick.  “Syed? Syed. Oi, someone get a doctor!  Syed.”  She had him by the shoulders.  “Syed...”

  
**

“I didn't know.  How could I?  Christian never told me.  Do you think that I'd have blamed him, said all those things if I'd known?  It was because I thought it was his fault!  I thought he'd got his mates to beat him up because Christian had made a pass or something.”

“As if! He's gay!  Christian's his lover!”

Oh god, Tam the Mouth.  So basically all of East London now knew that he was gay and that he and Christian were lovers.  If he hadn't been feeling so sick he'd have been laughing.

“He never told me!  I swear.”

“Well get your facts straight before accusing my brother of anything!”

Well he'd better put an end to this before hospital security threw them out.

“Tam, come on.  She didn't know.”

He could see that his brother still wanted to argue and he could certainly understand that urge – the urge to take out your anger and frustration on anything or anyone.  “We all bloody care about him,” Tamwar responded shooting a sidelong glare at Roxy.

“I know and that's the point.  We all care.  And I'd like to see him now if it's allowed.”  He was looking to his dad.  No matter how old he was, how well aware that he had to navigate the stormy waters of life by himself he still looked to his dad to smooth his way.

“I'll see what the doctors say.”  His father looked relieved to have an excuse to be out of the hothouse atmosphere of this little corner of the waiting area.

Syed was still recovering from his 'fainting fit' (according to the very loud and raucous Roxy) and Tamwar and Roxy seemed intent on playing who's right and who's wrong till the cows came home.  No wonder his father wanted out.  “Thanks, dad.”

  
**

Oh.  He'd thought Roxy was bad, but he had somehow rather conveniently forgotten Jane Beale...

  
**

Christian was actually laughing.  Trying to.  Wincing in pain, but laughing all the same.

Syed leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.  He had been warned what to expect and the fact that Christian was capable of laughing aided him in his determination not to give in to the grief and anger.  “I can't believe you found that funny.”

“You were like a school kid sent to the Headmistress' office.”

“Is that what it was like for you growing up?”

“Sometimes. But-”  He reached out a hand.  “I actually earned the lectures.”

Syed raised the hand to his lips. “You look like a puffer fish.”

“And you look like one of them Night of the Living Dead zombies.”

“Which means that we're-”

“Perfect for each other,” Christian finished and when Syed's tear fell raised a finger and wiped it away...

**

“Well, not that I'm eager to have the much bigger room or anything, but you could stay in my room if you like.”

Tam wasn't even trying to pretend nonchalance.  Well known fact that Tam had been coveting his room for the longest time and the fact is he really couldn't see himself ever being comfortable there again.  Plus his brother bloody deserved it.  Syed wasn't a fool he could see that his brother was still really upset, the shock of the attack and his involvement in the rescue really taking its toll, so this was the least, the very least he could do.

“Okay, but please pick up all your crap first.  I do not want to be tripping over dirty socks or used Kleenex all over the place...”

“I do not use Kleenex!  Not for the purposes you're implying!”

Syed grinned and patted gave his brother a patronising pat on the arm.  “Just clean the room, Tam. I've moved most of my stuff out of mine so you won't have to do much.”

“Okay.  Thanks.”  He was standing there, looking at  him, clearly wanting to say something, clearly not knowing quite how to.

Syed frowned.  What now?  Not more bad news.  “Tam? What?  What is it?”

“He's going to be okay isn't he?”

“Very bruised: ribs, the lower part of his body – thighs etc - and of course his face, but nothing broken.  He'll probably have a scar on his thigh, but we can live with that.”  He was peering into Tamwar's face, seeing that though the reassurance had registered the anxiety hadn't left him.  “Tam?”

“You know it was Amira's dad.”

Syed felt an uncomfortable mix of both outrage and guilt.  No-one had the right to beat Christian.  No-one.  But it hadn't just been anyone had it?  It had been Amira's dad and there could be only one reason why he'd done it.  And that wasn't down to Christian, or anyone else, was it?  “I know, but Christian doesn't want to press charges, doesn't want the police involved at all.”  Tam's expression didn't really change; clearly he wasn't exactly surprised at this revelation.  No, there was something else...  “Tamwar, what is it?  You said you could understand why Qadim was saying...”

“He was shouting, really angry and Christian was sort of pleading with him, trying to stop him going through with it probably, but it was obvious he had no idea what Amira's dad was saying.”

Syed frowned, heart racing.  “What?  What was he saying?”

“That he was going to punish him for messing with his daughter, for getting her pregnant and dishonouring her.”

Syed stared at him.  “What?”

**

“Tam, you sure about this?”

Tamwar couldn't help himself; he rolled his eyes.  “Dad, yes.  I heard him clearly.  I remember because it was so ridiculous.”

The three of them were in the kitchen, pondering this strange turn of events.

“But why would Amira say such a thing?  One, she isn't pregnant and two Christian's gay.  Why would she tell her dad that? Makes no sense.”  If anything he was feeling worse now than when he'd been sure Qadim had beaten Christian because of him.  They'd all assumed that Christian had been attacked because of his association with Syed, but now...

“And you say she doesn't know about you and Christian.”

“No, dad, you are the only people who knew.  Even Roxy didn't.  Jane Beale knew, but come on she's the first person we'd strike off the list...”

They fell silent once more, none of them able to understand what was behind Qadim's strange  interpretation of events.  Amira had seemed okay, had pretty much told him she'd keep his secret, but well, things changed didn't they?  But why then hadn't she sent Qadim after him?  Why go after Christian?  Unless...  God she knew, she must do – that was the only explanation.

He didn't know how to react, what to feel.  He'd assumed a lot of things.  Naively as it turned out.  Of course once she'd had time to let it sink in she'd start changing her mind about letting him off the hook.  She'd claimed that it was punishment enough for him to come to terms with the fact that he'd fucked up, that had he handled things differently he could have had it all, but obviously in the end that had turned out to be less than satisfying and she'd decided that no, actually what she wanted was blood.

And that was okay, perfectly understandable, come for him by all means, not like he didn't deserve it, but Christian?  Why the fuck punish Christian and not him?

He looked to his dad for answers, but his dad seemed as perplexed as he and Tam were.

Well it was a bit late now, but he'd have to go and talk to Christian, tell him what Tam had told him.

He honestly didn't know how Christian was going to react.  They'd both of them thought they were pretty home and dry as far as Amira went.  Obviously the guilt would linger for a while, but apart from that they'd really thought they'd got off relatively unscathed.

Seems that that had been a severe case of wishful thinking...

**

  
To say that he was surprised to see Roxy Mitchell sitting on the sofa in his living room when he came down the following morning would have been an understatement.  She looked uncomfortable, a cup of tea held loosely in her hand, Tamwar perched on the edge of the table, staring at her.

“Oh.  Hello.  Didn't know you were here.”  He hovered at the door, progress halted by sheer surprise.  Roxy?  What the hell was she doing here?  And why the hell hadn't Tam told him?  “Tam, could you get one for me?”

“Since when do I make your tea?”

“Never, but how about we make an exception just for today?”  He held his brother's gaze as he made his sullen way past, making it clear that they'd have words later.  “So, Roxy, what can I do for you?”

“Well, accept my apology for a start.”

“Apology?  For what?”

“Behaving like a right cow the other day.  I was just so worried about him, so upset I just lashed out at the first-”

“Brown face you saw.”

She looked down.  “That was unforgivable.”  She looked up now, eyes intent.  “I am not a racist. I-”

“I know.”  He sighed, moved closer, then after a slight hesitation sat beside her.  He didn't know her very well and it was strange to have her in his house so unexpectedly.  And for all that he didn't accept the usual crap about women there was a definite taboo about being close to a woman who was neither wife nor relative.  “Look, I'm sure he would have told you eventually.  It's not really my place to.”

“Actually he did tell me.  He just didn't tell me, tell me.”  At his puzzled frown she elaborated.  “Told me there was someone just didn't say it was you.”

Well at least he'd told her he was involved.  “When did he tell you?”

“Oh not that long ago, just before he went up to Manchester”  She grinned.  “Couldn't really hide it, he was that happy.”  Her direct stare had him looking away, reddening under its intensity. “He told me there were complications.  I just assumed that he meant the guy was seeing someone else or something.  Had no idea he meant this sort of complication!”

Yes, well.  “It hasn't been easy, but he's worth it.  I hope he feels the same.”

Her hand on his was soft and slightly cool.  “He does.”

The look in her eye offered the first true external proof that Christian loved him.  The look in her eye told him that she had absolutely no doubt whatsoever that he was utterly, sincerely,  loved.

**

“But what are you going to say to him? You really think this is a good idea?  He is still in a hospital bed.  Do you really think telling him this, talking it through will help him at all?  Look I know you want to be completely open, not hide anything, but you also have to think about him, what he needs.  I don't think being forced to relive the attack will  help him, do you?”

“But it'll be like I'm keeping something from him, dad.  It doesn't feel right.”

“Syed, son.  Listen.  Sit down a minute.  What you're doing is you're putting yourself first.  Hear me out.  You're not really thinking of Christian.  You're thinking of how it would feel for you to withhold this thing from him.  But what does a few more days matter – to Christian?  Hmm? Do you really think he won't understand why you left it a few days before bringing this up?”

Syed was silent for a while.  He didn't want to hear this, the urge to let Christian in on this new turn of events like an itch under his skin.  Yet he knew that what his father said made sense.  He knew Christian would want to know, knew it because he knew him, but that didn't mean that that was the best thing for him.  Not in his present condition.  So he looked up at his dad and gave a silent nod of acquiescence.  No, he'd see him, but unless Christian himself raised the subject wouldn't tell him.

  
**

He'd brought a tub of Christian's favourite ice-cream and one spoon, looking forward to sharing it, kissing the cream off his mouth, the itch that he'd thought would drive him crazy every since Tam had told them now nothing but a distant memory.

It would take a while for him to get back to peak physical fitness which really was a damn shame, but once he was fit they were certainly going to make up for lost time.  Besides there were a lot of things you could do that didn't necessarily require peak physical fitness.

He grinned to himself as he imagined the look on Christian's face after he made his suggestions, but found the grin turning to a grimace of shocked astonishment when he approached Christian's door and saw the woman standing by his bed.

Amira.

  
**

  
It was the fuss.  He hated the fuss.  Yeah he was hurt, yeah he was in hospital, but the bloody fuss.  It was doing his head in!

He was fucking aching, felt 110 years old, every movement taking an age to complete, more often than not making him groan out loud in the process.  He didn't think he'd ever felt so bloody awful, but having all this fuss made him feel a thousand times worse.

Nurses.  So bloody cheery and he knew didn't he just how sincere it all was.  He wanted to tell them to save it for someone who didn't know the drill, but couldn't muster up the energy...

Syed.  Well that had made him feel a lot better.  Syed's poor little face as he stood still for Jane's bollicking, too canny to even attempt to argue with her.  That was the thing about Sy, he knew when to keep it buttoned.

He grinned to himself as he imagined the look on Syed's face when he'd suggest to him (the next time he came to visit) that maybe he should think of unbuttoning – just for a minute or two – to remind Christian of why he had to get better very, very soon!

You'd have thought that being one huge bruise would have made the thought of sex anathema, but it was clear that for neither of them was the fact of his injury any kind of impediment to the desire each stirred in the other.

He looked a right sight, yet Sy had looked at him with desire in his eyes, like he didn't see the bruises, the ugliness, just saw beyond it all a guy he really, really fancied...

He didn't honestly know what he'd done to deserve this, this love, but he was not complaining.

For the longest time he'd doubted, doubted that Syed really loved him, had played the game – countless, sleepless, frustrated nights - of 'he doesn't love me the way I love him',  'he doesn't love me as much as I love him'.  Now it simply didn't matter, those fears and insecurities relegated to the childish things one puts away when one matures.  Because it didn't matter that Syed might not love him the way he loved Syed, that Syed might not love him as much.  The fact was that the way Syed loved him was enough, more than enough to keep him happy and content for the remainder of his days, so to attempt to quantify, compare and contrast was not only futile but completely irrelevant.

Knowing Syed he probably felt that Christian didn't love him as much as he loved Christian!

Laying back he allowed his mind to drift...

When he got out of this hell-hole there'd be some changes he'd be making.

Well past time he made some drastic changes...

**

As the nurse left she held the door open for someone.

Amira.

He instinctively checked to make sure he was decent – nothing exposed or ...hanging out - tried to sit up, but she hurried over, putting out a restraining hand.

“No, don't.”  She did something with his pillow, put a cool little hand on his neck and encouraged him to settle back.  “You look absolutely awful!”

He winced, shook his head a little.  “No, not my finest hour it has to be said.”

She was examining his face, careful to keep her eyes well above his neck.  He hadn't really thought about it until now, but she did that – kept her eyes on his face and nowhere else.  Roxy – and other women – let their eyes roam freely.  He had never even really realised that she was different in that way until now.  “I know what he did, Christian, and I'm here to apologise - for myself  and on his behalf.”

“Amira, you don't need to-”

“I need to apologise because I don't want him anywhere near you so I have no choice but to convey his apology.  I want to apologise just because he's my father and he did it for me.  I do need to apologise.  How could you think I'd be okay with this, with not letting you know that I'm not okay with this?”

Her voice was rising and he suspected that she was about to lose it, so he took her hand and raised it to his lips, eyes steady on hers.

He didn't say a word, just kissed her gently on the back of the hand, but it seemed to do the trick.

“Christian, it's such a mess and I can't believe that it's come to this, and I know you might not understand this, but it's actually helped me.  I could have gone under, allowed my life to be over without it ever really starting, but why?  What did I do that that should be what happens to me?  I made a decision the day I left Syed – that I wouldn't suffer for the things he did.  He did it, he deceived me; he married me knowing he couldn't ever be a proper husband, decided not to tell me who he really was.  Why should I suffer for his weakness, for his mistakes?  So I decided that I wouldn't.  I didn't tell my dad that the marriage was over, I told him that we'd argued, that we were still a married couple but that we needed time to talk things through. I implied that we'd be getting back together.” When their eyes met and held she squeezed his hand. “I don't want him, Christian.  Loving someone and wanting them are two different things.  I will probably always love him, but I had to accept that there was no way that I could still want him in that way and be as strong as I need to be-”

“Yeah, but telling yourself that, Amira, and actually feeling it-”

“I'm not you, Christian.  I'm not the one he chose, I'm not the one he can make love to and not want to spend the rest of the night in the bathroom-”

“Amira...”

“No, it's okay.  It's actually better now I know it had nothing to do with me.”  She sat on the edge of the bed, her slight weight making him wince only a little. “It's different when the love's returned, it makes you know there's something worth fighting for.  I know there isn't for me, which is why I don't want him anymore.”

Well he could see her point, he just couldn't imagine loving Syed and not wanting to be with him, see him, be near him in whatever capacity... “You know that I never meant to hurt you.”

She looked him in the eye.  “You didn't.  You never did.  And I know that if I'd been you I would have hurt me.  I would have done everything I could to wreck the marriage.  But you never did, did you?  When I realised that it was you I wanted to resent you, blame you, hate you, but every time I tried, Christian, I could find nothing: no time when you hadn't been kindness itself to me, when you hadn't listened to my constant whining, given me so much good advice...  How could you do that?  How could you have done that?”

He shrugged.  “He wanted it to work with you, so I wanted that too.”

She stared at him, then shook her head.  “I don't think I could love anyone that much.  I mean I'm okay with you and Syed, but it's not because I love him and want him to be happy with whoever he wants to be with, it's because I know that I'd be hurting myself by holding on.  It's not for him, it's for me.  Completely selfish.”

“We're all that, Amira.  None of us are noble.  Even loving him is selfish for me.  And sometimes being selfish is the only way to survive.”

  
She was looking down at their joined hands.  “I didn't tell my father that.”  She looked into his eyes.  “It wasn't me who told him who you were, where you lived, concocted that story.  It wasn't me.”

**

He wasn't quite sure who he should greet first, but the decision was taken out of his hands when turning at the sound of the door Christian smiled in unfeigned delight and Amira immediately looked away.

He saw their joined hands and frowned.  “Hi.”  A general, not specific greeting.

“Hi.”

Silence from Amira, but she gently released Christian's hand.

“Brought you some ice cream.”

“Wonderful.”  Christian's face was battered and distorted but his left eye was fine and the message in them was clear:  Talk to her!

“Amira, hi.”

“I was just leaving.  Christian, sorry I couldn't stay longer.”  She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.  “Be in touch.”  Her hesitation and direct look into his eyes denoted that though that last had been in the form of a statement it had been, in fact, a question.  Almost a request.

Christian touched her hair, pushed it back off her shoulder, trapped a silky lock between his fingers.  “You'd better.”

  
With a smile she took her leave, walking past Syed without a word – or a backward glance...

  
**

“I don't get it.”

Syed had been standing staring at the door for the past five minutes.  Or so it seemed to Christian.  They'd exchanged a distracted kiss, Syed absently placing the tub of ice-cream on the chest of drawers, his mind clearly on the woman who'd just left.  Christian had made a few nice, ultimately uninformative remarks about Amira and her presence there, but he could see that Syed really wasn't listening.

“Give her time.  She's still a bit tender.”

A sharp look.  “But she's okay with you?  She kissed you!”

Christian rolled his eyes, suddenly impatient.  He wasn't feeling the best, the stress of Amira's visit – not her doing, just the fact of her being there – adding to the disgruntlement he was already feeling and he wanted to shout at him, tell him to go if he was going to be that way.  “Sy, please.  Not now.”

Syed's expression changed and he came closer, concern apparent in every movement.  He took Christian's hand.  “Are you in pain?  Shall I call the nurse?”

“Please god, no!” Sighing he lay back and closed his eyes.  “Just a bit tired, Sy.”  He smiled. “Could do with some of that ice-cream.  Besides, we don't want it to melt do we?”

Taking the hint Syed smiled and reached for the tub...  “Guess I'm going to have to feed you then...”

  
**

“She really doesn't blame you?”

He wiped the last residue of ice-cream from Christian's cheek.

A shrug.  “She says not.”

“But she's not ready to forgive me.”

Christian's blue eyes were hard to read.  “I think she simply needs time, Syed.  It's not because you're gay, not because you and me... It's a lot more personal than that.  She feels slighted, like she could have been anyone and all the things you said you felt for her were lies, just the things you felt you needed to say to make it possible for the marriage to go ahead.”  He sighed, stroked sympathetic fingers across the back of Syed's hand.  “I don't think there's anything you can say at this stage, it's something she has to work out for herself, come to terms with.  But she's different, Sy.  She even says that this has made her stronger and I believe her.  These things happen for a reason, you know.  Maybe we'll all come out of it okay in the end.”

Yeah, alright for him to say that – not him who had everyone blaming and hating him.  But he was glad that Amira wasn't blaming Christian for what had happened between them.  That, at least, was a weight off his mind.  No doubt in time he too would come to terms with what he'd done, not only to Amira, but also to his family, and be 'okay in the end'.

They sat in uncomfortable silence, Christian watching him while he kept his eyes and his thoughts strictly to himself.

“Sy...”

He found a smile – a not very convincing one he knew, but he no longer had the energy to pretend.  “Still here.”

“Only just.  Sy, can we not do this? I'm sorry, but I'm really not up to it.”

“Sorry.  I'll go.”

“Sy...”

“Yes?”

“She didn't do it.”

“What? Didn't do what?”

“The beating.  She didn't tell her father anything – about you, about me - far as she knew he didn't know me from Adam.”  Syed didn't like the look in his eye, as though he was about to deliver some really unpleasant news.  “Amira says that her father confessed that he got a phone call – from a woman – telling him that the reason she had left Walford was because I had forced her – not clear if it was rape or just seduction – into having sex which had resulted in a pregnancy and that I had in effect not only destroyed her marriage, but taken her virginity – dishonoured her.  Oh I don't even know the details.  Not sure even her father does.  Apparently he's a very impulsive character, tends to act without hearing all the facts.”  His tone and expression were wry.

Syed stared at him, shocked.  “What?”  He sat, legs no longer able to hold him up.

“Amira didn't say any more than that, but I know she thinks she knows who was behind it.”  He paused, staring intently into Syed's face.

No! No way! “Look, Christian I don't know what Amira's told you, what her dad's told her.  Look, couldn't he have said all that to get out of facing up to what he'd done? I know you don't like her, but there's no way she would have done this.  She couldn't have: she's up in Manchester!”

Christian nodded, but he wasn't meeting Syed's gaze.  “Yeah.  Like I said, no-one, not even Amira's dad, actually knows who made that phone call.”

The silence between them was as loud as a yell.

No. No. No. No.  “Look, Christian, you're tired.”  He got to his feet, trying to find an  acceptable expression from his store of acceptable expressions for every occasion...  Christian's intent, concerned stare let him know that he had failed.  He had to get out of there.  “I'll come again tomorrow.  Look after yourself.”

“Yeah.  Bye Sy.”

With a final travesty of a smile he sought the refuge of the corridor, headed straight for the men's room...

  
**

He was lying on the sofa when his dad returned, not even making an attempt to pretend that he hadn't been crying.

He saw his father's hesitation, read the expression as an 'oh shit, what now?  Can I do this?'  but he bravely came forward anyway, met his eyes.  “Syed?”

“Dad.”  He sat up, unable to cope, unable to deal with this new turn of events.  He didn't even know it was her.  How the hell could he accuse his own mother...?   “I went to see Christian in the hospital today.”

“Yes, son, I know.”  He was taking off his jacket, clearly preparing himself for what he no doubt expected to be another emotional roller-coaster.  Oh if only he knew!

“Amira was there.”

His father looked as startled as he had.  “Amira?”

“Yes, she'd come to see Christian.”  He hesitated, trying to rid himself of the bitter taste of that fact before continuing.  “She claims that it wasn't her who told Qadim about Christian, about him getting her pregnant.”  He took a deep breath, looked straight into his father's eyes.  “She says that a woman phoned Qadim anonymously, made up a story about Christian forcing himself on Amira – before her wedding – taking her virginity and getting her pregnant.”

His father stared at him, the shock as huge for him as it had been for his son.  “No wonder Qadim... But who would make up such a thing?  It dishonours Amira and practically signs Christian's death warrant.  Even I would want to kill any man who did that to Shabnam...”

They continued to stare at each other and he saw, saw exactly when the penny dropped.  But the shock for his father had not been as huge as it had for him.  He saw the knowledge settle in his father's eyes, but it wasn't accompanied by shock.  The residual expression he could not read, but if pressed he'd have said it had been resignation, almost a satisfaction as of a question answered.

“Well I guess we'll never know will we? You say that it was an anonymous call?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then.  Just one of those things then isn't it?”

They stared at each other.

Yeah, just one of these things.

“Right, you eaten?”

“Not really.”

“Chips?”

“Okay.  I'll get them.  Tam around?”

“Your brother should be back any minute,  I saw him as I was coming in.  Tell you what, why don't you both go?”  He withdrew his wallet, holding Syed's gaze.  “Maybe you can pick up a few things from the 24 hour shop too.”

That shop was outside the square – probably take them a while to get there and back, plus the chippy was bound to be crowded at this time of night... He took the note from his father's hand and nodded, making it clear that he understood.

His life was shit, absolute fucking shit...

  
**

He didn't see Syed for three days and had begun to really worry, but Jane assured him that all was well, that Syed had asked her to convey his apologies and assured that he'd be back the following day.  “And he's okay,” he asked anxiously, shaking his head at the proffered grape.  He was feeling so much better today – the aches were bearable, the bruises fading nicely, his disposition 200% improved.

Jane patted his hand.  “He's fine.  I think he just needs a bit of time to sort things out with the family-”

He frowned.  “What do you mean?  Has something happened?”

She laughed.  “No, you worry wart, I just meant that with everything that's gone on he probably feels that he needs to spend time with them.  I know what it's like when a bunch of men are left to fend for themselves when they're not used to it.”

“Darling, I can tell you that you have no bloody idea!”

“Well I was talking about a different kind of man.”  The pat on his cheek was patronising.

“Well Syed's not a different kind of man.”

She rolled her eyes.  “Can we get back on track, please, Christian?”

He made a face, but said no more.

  
**

He was released the following week and Jane insisted on him staying with them.  Oh great, an entire day spent with Ian Beale and where the hell was he and Syed supposed to go for some private time?  But he was grateful. He claimed he had no problems going back to the flat but that was just bravado and since she was his big sister had no trouble recognising this, and since she was his big sister she did her best to make it seem like he was doing her the favour rather than the other way round.  “Lucy only listens to you, Christian, plus your sharp tongue keeps Ian on the straight and narrow.”

God what a thought: he didn't want his tongue – sharp or otherwise - anywhere near Ian Beale's straight and narrow.  But he acquiesced – graciously – and it was a done deal.  Syed would hate it, but for now it was the best they could do.

He and Syed hadn't had much time to themselves and he really didn't know what was going on with his lover.

Oh when the hell would they be able to get back to bloody normal!

  
**

  
“Amira-”

“Now, listen, it's not much, but it makes me feel better.  My dad agrees that it's the least, the very least, he could do.  He feels very foolish, Christian, and trust me will bend over backwards to save face.  I don't always agree with the way he does things, but one thing he always does is put his money where his mouth is.”  She laughed.  “I'm giving you this for another reason anyway.  All of this – what the did to you and the guilt he feels now has made it a lot easier for me to get my way.  He's paying for me to go college and that's what I want now.  I should never have got married so young.  If I'd been a boy he'd have made sure I got a good college education, came into the business with him.  Well I don't want to go into the business, but I do want a career.  He's a lot more open to discussing that than he used to be, so.”  Another giggle.  “Thank you, Christian.”

She sounded so happy, so light that he couldn't help smiling in turn.  “Amira, thank you!  It's just what we need.  I think if we had to stay in Walford one more day I'd crack up!”

“I can imagine.  And it's open – you make your own arrangements – but it's all paid for – cook and cleaner for the fortnight too.  You just let me know when you're ready to go.”

He closed his eyes, savouring the sensation.  To be free – if only for two weeks – just him and Syed.  Alone, away from their troubles...  “Thanks, babe.  I owe you one.”

“Oh don't worry – I'm not my father's daughter for nothing, you know.  I do have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh? What?”

“Well isn't that for you to find out?”

He frowned at the handset.  “Oh very mysterious.  Should we be worried?”

She didn't answer straight away.  When she spoke her tone had changed. “We're friends, okay? We might fall out in the future, but it will never be because of this and I know that I was rude to him, but I don't hate him, you know that.  I know that the more I get my life together – have a bloody life – the more I'll be able to forgive him.  Properly.  It's just going to take time.”

Yeah he knew.  “Amira, we are friends and you know that if you ever need anything...”

“I do and don't worry, I will ask.”

“That sounded suspiciously like a threat.”

Her laugh in response was uninhibited, totally unforced – happy.

At last – at least one aspect of his life was starting to get back on track.

Now for the Syed part of things...

**

“No.”  He was glaring at Christian.  How could he think he'd be alright with that? No fucking way! “I'm not accepting anything from either one of them.  I can't believe that you'd ever think I would!”

Christian still limped, still moved pretty gingerly most days, but the bruises were fading, his eye almost back to normal.  The one thing that wasn't back to normal was his treatment of Syed.  He was holding back – all the bloody time he held back, reluctant to say what was really on his mind.  He hated it! And then if that – if everything in his fucking life! – wasn't bad enough, now this!  Charity?  Blood money? No way!

 How the hell had they lost it this way?  One minute they were fine, ready to make a life together and now all the pieces were jagged, no longer fit.  He hated it, hated that his life was no longer in his control, that no matter what he hoped and wished for there was someone, something that made it all turn to shit.

“Okay, don't then.  I'll go by myself.  I need time away, Sy.  I'd rather you came with me, but if you'd rather not then that's fine.”  He looked at him, obviously expecting a reply, waiting for him to what, give in?

“You're not well enough to – don't be stupid.”  He knew he sounded dismissive, but he hated being manipulated.  Like Christian was really going to go anywhere without him!

“Okay.  Can we talk about something else?”

Syed stared at him, trying, without success, to gauge his expression.  “Yeah, okay, I was hoping we could talk about the thing we started discussing the other day.”

“Okay.”

Syed hesitated, unsure.  He just hated when they were like this – out of synch, pissed off with each other.  But he knew better than to try to be affectionate, apologetic: Christian, lately, was not really amenable to any of that.  

What the hell had changed for them?

“Well I thought we could start by looking for suitable properties then looking for investors. I still have contacts and do know the business inside and out...”

“Like I said, Sy – it's a good idea, I'm in.  I'm just not up to it right now.  I just need some time, some time away from this place, get my head on straight.”

“Yeah, yeah I agree.  We'll find somewhere, I'll borrow some money off my dad...”  His dad, his dad was in a bad place at the moment and he could tell by Christian's stare then immediate lowering of the eyes that he thought that was a spectacularly bad idea.  He sighed deeply, finally admitting defeat.  What the fuck was the point of pride?  Where the hell had pride got him?  “I don't like it, Christian.  I won't be happy there.”

Christian reached for his hand.  “Sy, I'll make you happy.”  kissed each finger.  “And that is a promise.”

  
Well, what else could he do but tell him to prove it?


End file.
